


By The Sword

by Nightheart



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Some angst, Speculation with cannon, The Four Noble Houses, What happened after the war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightheart/pseuds/Nightheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Heads of the Four Noble Famlies of Seireitei are Chosen from the Noble Clans by the Sword of thier Guardian; Genbu, Seiryuu, Suzaku and Byako respectively. Renji Abarai, demoted to no-rank for choosing his loyalty to Rukia over his duty, stumbles across an unexpected secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been beyond a long time since I'd promised to repost this with the reworked chapters I'd written. I dont have any excuses. I just want to make a shout out to the amazing beta reader who read every reworked chapter, offered advice and edits and was so terribly patient with me. This is for Kuroitori-roh. Shout-outs are insufficient, I would stand on a mountain top and shout out to the world. Thanks also to everyone who reveiwed and dropped kudos, I hope you all enjoy the reworked version. (Oh, and just a reminder about timeline... I started writing this waay back before the hueco mundo arc had finished, so it doesn't take into account the end of that arc or anything written thereafter).

Although he knew why they'd had to do it, the knowledge didn't make it any easier to take.

 "Reaper Abarai," he muttered bitterly under his breath.

 The trip to Hueco Mundo with Rukia to rescue Orihime Inoue had been not only unauthorized, but also forbidden. Captains Kuchiki and Zaraki had personally fetched him and Rukia back from Karakura Town to gear up, along with the rest of the Seireitei, for the upcoming war. That they had chosen to follow their own path was on them.

 Aizen's Rebellion, or the 'Winter War', as some now called it, had shaken the Gotei Thirteen badly. The Divisions were still in the process of sorting themselves out after the conflict. Many soldiers simply hadn't made it back. The Eleventh Division lost much of its unseated membership. A third of the First, Fifth and Tenth Divisions had died in a trap set by Aizen to whittle down their ranks. They'd received word of a sizeable force of Arrancars lurking in a remote outpost in Hueco Mundo and had gone in to make a pre-emptive strike. Unfortunately, Aizen's minions had rigged the network of caves the Hollows had supposedly been using as a base with a series of lethal traps. None of the Shinigami who entered the underground maze had made it out alive. The Eighth Division had lost many seated officers in a raid early on in the ground war, as had the Ninth and Thirteenth Divisions. Renji would gladly tolerate the sound of squabbling from that last Division again if it meant that Third Seat Sentaro Kotsubaki would still be alive.

 However, what hit Renji Abarai the hardest were the casualties among the first and second seats in the Gotei 13. Today he stood in the dry grass and crusted snow, on the crest of a hill with a particularly picturesque view, gazing at the evidence of one such loss. Reaching up, he grasped the clasp of his winter cloak

 "Momo-chan..." he greeted his absent friend sadly, as he stood before the marker that bore the late Fifth Division lieutenant's name. Caught between overwhelming grief and the desire to keep the stoic mask he'd donned in place, Renji bowed from the waist. It was yet another reminder that nothing would ever be the same again. Five minutes later, he sensed the presence of now-Captain Shuuhei Hisagi trudging up the hill behind him. Eventually, the crunching footsteps came to a stop next to him.

 Captain Hitsugaya had chosen a lovely resting place for Momo Hinamori. While it might seem a little desolate now, in the middle of January, come spring, the vantage point would be green and full of wildflowers. Kira's grave, in contrast, was located in his family plot, in a place of honor where mourners could remember him. Once he'd paid his respects here, he would make his way to Kira's more formal memorial. Both Lieutenants had perished in the last battle. Momo had faced her former Captain and love and Aizen had subsequently killed her. Kira had avenged her, at the cost of his own life. They'd both died but not before Renji and Zabimaru, with assistance from that orange-haired brat Kurosaki Ichigo, managed to help the other Captains land the killing stroke.

 "This should never have happened," Hisagi declared, looking at the memorial picture of the young woman.

 "She chose t' fight, just like th' rest of us," Renji replied roughly, unwilling to sully her memory with pity.

 Pity was what one felt for people who'd had no choice about their fates. His childhood friends in the outer Rukongai were such. They'd had no chance of escaping their deaths on the streets of Inuzuri. In contrast, a warrior always made his or her own choices. Momo had died well, in such a way that no one would ever call her weak again. He was glad of that, but at the same time, it hurt to know she was gone for good.

 Shuuhei said nothing, choosing to lapse into a contemplative silence. Renji had grown accustomed to it over the last few weeks. They'd come to this hilltop every day since the fighting had officially ended a month ago, each trying to find solace in a world that was very different from the one before the war. Renji's demotion was only part of it. For one thing, there were many new names and faces within the ranks, fresh-faced little boys and girls just out of the Academy with little proficiency in dealing with the day-to-day functions of a typical Division's bureaucracy, let alone real-world combat. An unspoken question, a sort of 'so now what?' hung unanswered in the air around many of the Division halls as the majority of the surviving rank and file got used to new commanders. There had been a sea change in the Seireitei and very few had fully adjusted to it yet.

 Captain Yamamoto blatantly poached from among the more promising upper officers of the various Divisions, snatching long-time subordinate members with excellent leadership skills to become the new Captains. Shuuhei Hisagi, to one one's surprise, was now the official Captain of the Ninth Division, but he had yet to pick a second-in-command. Despite Shunsui Kyoraku's vehement protests, former Lieutenant Nanao Ise now ran the Fifth Division as it had lacked both a Captain and a Vice-Captain. Captain Ikakku Madarame and his new Lieutenant, Yumichika Ayasegawa, the infamous duo of the Eleventh Division, reluctantly took over the Third Division, but not without some protest on their part. Renji had heard the wild rumor that the two had tried to refuse the honor and the promotions. Captain Zaraki had supposedly told them he'd only let them do so if they could defeat him. They hadn't, so they were stuck with their new positions. The Eighth had a new lieutenant, a man this time. Apparently, he was yet another studious sort hired on to handle all of Captain Kyoraku's paperwork. The remaining Divisions had suffered similar losses within their lower ranks and had scrambled to replace their missing personnel from the war with inexperienced Academy graduates.

 As for Renji, he was at a loss with as to what to do with himself now that he wasn't a Seated Officer. The Sixth had a new Vice Captain and Renji detested the guy. It wasn't just because he had taken the spot Renji had worked so hard to attain either. Lieutenant Morii Korin was as big a prat as they came. There was something about the man that Renji instinctively disliked, or rather, distrusted. He exuded pretentiousness. If his snobbish attitude had been cologne, the fragrance would have arrived in any given room a full five minutes before the man himself entered.

 "Heard you got assigned to the front," Renji remarked, more to fill the silence between them than to express surprise or concern.

 "Yeah," Hisagi answered unenthusiastically. "I hate red zone missions."

 "Everyone does."

 'Red zone' missions took place in active battle zones in the World of the Living. Their very nature made them undesirable assignments. The high level of danger was one obvious reason. Nothing spawned Hollows of the most vicious sort quite like the atrocious things that happened on a battlefield, or worse, the site of a massacre. The toxic mix of hated, fear and anger among the fighters and the fallen often resulted in resentment among the newly dead, which in turn helped create terrible Hollows. A Reaper had to be constantly on guard when carrying out a red zone mission, since a conflict could become enemy territory at any given moment. Until Renji had run up against an Arrancar, he'd never encountered Hollows as nasty as the ones that made the red zones their homes.

 The other aspect that made red zone missions difficult for even the most experienced Reapers involved witnessing the carnage itself. The old saying, 'war is hell' was in no way an exaggeration. People didn't just die in a war. They died horribly and tried in turn to do horrible things to other humans before they went. They'd gladly hack off limbs or fill one another full of bullets fired from their guns. They launched chemical and biological weapons at one another that did excruciatingly painful things to both human bodies and to the gigais of any Reapers unfortunate enough to be in the way while wearing one. That list didn't include the inevitable torture that took place in many of the more primitive prison camps. In addition, it failed to take into account the infinite number of ways that one group of people could, with enough weapons and force, round up an opposing group of humans the way that a shepherd might round up a flock of sheep and summarily slaughter them, burying them in mass graves.

 All red zones were loathsome places, but in Renji's opinion, the battlefields were probably the worst. They were the ultimate test of a Shinigami's dedication to the necessary work of soul purification under the worst possible conditions. One could neither escape the senseless, needless destruction, nor blot out the sight of dying soldiers choking on their own blood and face down in the churned up mud, their partially mangled corpses littering the ground. The awfulness wasn't just limited to the sights of battle. The noises were difficult to handle too, like the screams of the dying and the wounded, of weapons going off around human and Shinigami alike. One of the most disturbing parts about it was when a soldier unexpectedly died in the middle of combat. Often, the poor soul ended up gawking down at his body in shocked disbelief. The truly tragic cases kept trying to report in to superiors who could no longer hear or see them or tried in vain to get back into their shells so they could help their still-living buddies or make it back to their loved ones. The konso ritual was always something of a relief for those Pluses, as well as the Reaper performing them. As for the rest...

 Hisagi seemed supremely put out and Renji guessed that his sempai wasn't looking forward to his next mission. He didn't blame they guy at all, nor did he envy the Ninth Division in general. They'd lost the fewest members during the war, so their veterans had their hands full with difficult Living World assignments.

 His recent demotion was like a poison-tipped barb in his pride, making him question himself. He didn't regret his decision to follow Rukia into Hueco Mundo. Given the same situation, he'd do it again without hesitation because it had been the right thing to do. Moreover, he knew going in that Captain Kuchiki would have to punish him. In fact, Renji was surprised that his Captain had held off delivering said punishment for as long as he had. On the other hand, he had worked so hard for that spot! To have it yanked out from under his feet seemed incredibly unfair.

 Rukia had had received a slap on the wrist, more or less, for disobeying an order and setting out for Hueco Mundo on her own. Her dear brother had expressed his disapproval of her recklessness, but everyone could tell that underneath it all he was simply glad she'd made it out alive. Her Captain, Jushiro Ukitake, was inclined to be lenient. Renji didn't have that sort of luck.

 Another saying came to mind... something about 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall' or some such and he grimaced.

 Ironically, it was because he was an upper-level officer, one spot below the highest rank that a Reaper could attain in the Seireitei, that his punishment had been so severe. He wasn't a member of the nobility so there was no one in the background to speak for him, no one to pull strings, drop names or whisper in ears to get his sentence lessened. Furthermore, his Captain was a stickler for the rules and because Byakuya Kuchiki had compromised his principles for his sister's sake, he'd chosen to save face elsewhere by demonstrating that he would not tolerate insubordination from his underlings.

 He was no longer the Sixth Division's 'Lieutenant Renji Abarai'. He wasn't even Twentieth Seat, a rank into which he had graduated once he'd left the Academy. He was merely 'Reaper Abarai', a common soldier with no status whatsoever. With all that, he still could have handled being kicked the curb. He'd have picked himself up and started climbing the ranks again, if fate hadn't stepped in to remove his reason for doing so.

 Renji felt his chest clench in helpless agony. Rukia was to marry someone else and he couldn't do a damned thing about it. The Gotei 13's ranks weren't the only things changing. A Grand Council comprised of members of all of the noble families had convened to decide upon the new appointees to the soon-to-be-reformed Central Forty-Six. He'd heard that the ensuing power struggles resembled the bloody frenzy caused by a freshly killed pig carcass tossed into a tank full of piranhas. It made him glad that he wasn't a noble. Politics really wasn't his thing. He was much too straightforward for that garbage. Captain Kuchiki on the other hand, being the scion of one of the Four Noble Clans still living in the Seireitei, was up to his aristocratic chin in the political muck. Plenty of minor nobles would give their eyeteeth to marry into all that wealth and privilege. As far as marriageability, both Kuchiki's were eminently 'on the market', a result of the post-war yearning for 'normalcy' and a drive on the part of each Clan's elders to secure undisputed heirs. The scuttlebutt around the Seireitei was that the Kuchiki elders were wrangling with the elders of the other three Clans over who might be the best potential spouse for the younger Kuchiki sibling.

 Normally, it would have been business as usual for the Kuchiki family. Unfortunately, there was a young man from one of the lesser branches of the final Noble House who stood a good chance of becoming the successor once the Elder Head of the Clan finally went belly up. Renji couldn't recall the Clan's name right off the top of his head. All he knew was that a possible suitor for Rukia's hand had crawled out from somewhere within the noble woodwork.

 On paper, the presumptive groom was a fine and upstanding young man, an able politician and a commanding leader. However, Renji had also heard other, less flattering rumors about him, including one in which he had led an insurrection against members of his own family and another that painted him as both devious and ambitious. Despite the man's less-than-blameless reputation, Renji thought that the elder Kuchiki might have little choice but to bow to the political will of his family's elders in the matter. There was even some crazy talk about engaging poor Rukia to that pig-riding idiot Ganju Shiba! The very idea made Renji want to hurl his breakfast into the bushes. Rukia would fight such a match tooth and nail and if they did force it on her, he didn't lay long odds on the youngest Shiba sibling lasting through the wedding night... intact or otherwise. Nevertheless, it was almost a forgone conclusion that political circumstances would force the recently-adopted-and-therefore-most-disposable member of the Kuchiki Clan into a strategic marriage. Moreover, that someone wouldn't be Renji.

 No one had seen the Captain of the Sixth Division within the walls of his own Division hall for weeks. The new asshole had all but taken up the leadership responsibilities instead. The presence of the Head of Clan Kuchiki was required at every single one of those meetings of the Nobility, and those meetings went from dawn until late in the evening. Some of them stretched well into the night if a particularly long-winded noble took the floor.

_More power to him,_ Renji thought with a small pang of sympathy for his superior.

 He couldn't imagine anything worse than being cooped up with a bunch of bickering, influence-hungry, conniving old men and women all trying to out-argue, out-maneuver and out-manipulate one another in the pursuit of more power. It made Renji very glad that he was a simple soldier. He'd take a battlefield full of Hollows over that nonsense any day!

 These days, his commoner status couple with his divestment meant that any offer he might have made for Rukia would be of little value in comparison to a potentially advantageous alliance with someone of higher birth and with much deeper pockets.

 That brought him back around to the current state of affairs. Without rank, he had no hope of a 'someday' with the one he'd loved for as long as he could remember and his two best friends, Momo and Kira, were dead. To top it off, the new Vice Captain had put him down as a babysitter a brand-new batch of recently-graduated Reapers on their very Living World assignment, in some boring city where the only thing they were likely to run into were small, garden-variety Hollows. It was the sort of task they'd hand off to those who couldn't be trusted with anything more complicated, or those nearing retirement.

 "You gonna be okay man?" Shuuhei asked, the Vice Captain's voice bringing him back to the here-and-now.

  _No, I really don't think I am this time,_ Renji admitted gloomily to himself.

 Prior to his demotion, he'd at least had the hope of climbing to a place where he could be by her side again and all would be right with his world. Now, the place he'd always thought, or maybe wished, had been reserved only for him had been given to someone with a better pedigree.

 It hurt. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever imagined.

 "You know what they say," Renji lied to his companion with a wry grin. "Ya can't keep a good dog down. You just keep your sorry carcass in one piece on that red zone mission, got it, Captain Hisagi?"

 Shuuhei looked relieved at his display of normal behavior, or at least behavior that was 'normal' for Renji, and gave him a manly, commiserative buffet on the shoulder.

 "Sure thing. Polish up those diamonds in the rough, Abarai. We need to get them up to speed and quick."

 After a few more minutes of quiet broken only by the sound of the chill wind rustling the bare branches of the nearby trees, Shuuhei bowed to the marker, turned and went on his way. Renji remained there a short while longer, staring at Momo's memorial portrait etched so carefully into the gold plate that bore her name and the posthumous honors granted her for her sacrifice.

 Momo would have seen right through Renji's fib but they'd been friends since the Academy. He also had the feeling that she would have understood exactly why he'd lied and would have had something to say about it. More often than not, she'd had a way of putting things into perspective that, in the past, had helped Renji see his way through any number of tangled messes, as well as achieve goals that initially seemed impossible. Kira, with his razor-sharp intelligence and his calm, almost morose demeanor, always made the most difficult tasks look easy. Renji wondered what he was going to do without their advice.

 An odd thought suddenly struck him. Here he was, back on the bottom of the heap and he was already thinking about how long it was going to take him to retake it. However, he now had no reason to do so. Rukia was as good as married off. The only thing left for the Kuchiki elders to do involved picking out the groom who could most benefit their family. Renji's place was no longer at Rukia's side or at her back. Others now occupied those positions and Renji, who still possessed some small amount of pride, would not accept a position at her feet, proverbial or otherwise.

_I could take a break for a while_ , Renji considered, his humor laced strongly with black despair. _It's just Zabimaru an' me._

 Of course, his sword, the last thing he could truly call his, would never respect him if he didn't try to get stronger.

_Well that's a hell of a conundrum._

 If there was no hope for a future with Rukia, what was the point, he silently asked, in making the climb? Being a lieutenant had been inconvenient on most days. Paperwork, training and thousands of irritating little tasks wore on a person over time. The respect had been nice but he had to wonder whether the job had been worth it.

_Zabimaru's gonna think I'm a wimp._

 The sword would probably be right too. However, Renji wasn't certain that he cared if he was a wimp or not. He was just so fucking tired of everything. At that moment, he questioned whether he had the strength to wake up and face another day, never mind trying anything as ambitious as clawing his way up the ranks again. He thought about the madness of his first frantic dash to the top, about the hours that he'd spent honing his skills, training until he dropped only to haul himself up and do it all over again. He mentally relived the rigors of taking on opponents far stronger than he was in order to learn how to fight properly. He remembered the times he'd had his ass handed to him, day in and day out. Frankly, the mere idea of doing it all over again exhausted him.

_Maybe I'll just stay down here a while._

 He'd never been a no-rank Reaper before. He'd graduated from the Academy with scores that were high enough to get him a seated position, though he suspected that Aizen might have had something to do with his favorable placement in the Fifth Division. He'd ended up with the Twentieth Seat, which was the lowest 'ranking' available, but it was still a seat.

_I always had some sort accountability even before I entered the Academy._

 In the Rukongai, Renji had been the undeclared leader of their little gang. He'd been the one to organize when and how they stole meals and acquired water, as well as the one to defend their flop against incursion. Renji had tried to make sure that all of his people had what they needed to get by. He was the arbiter of disputes and the lead scout. The duty of keeping things together fell on his young shoulders when one of his own had come down sick or had been caught during one of their raids on the merchants. He'd looked after Rukia too, or at least tried to, while they were both in the Academy. He'd always had people looking to him, silently expecting him to think of a way around or through a problem.

  _Well, no one expects anything of me **now**._

 It was such strange concept to him, as well as a bit soul numbing. That led to another realization.

_Heh, I'm the only unranked Reaper, aside from the substitute brat, who has a Bankai!_

 Torn between laughing hysterically at the irony and groaning in utter dejection at the unfairness of it all, Renji closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

_It might be nice_ , he reflected, _to take a break and let others do the heavy lifting for a change._

He could follow orders with no cares or responsibilities. What was the worst that could happen? The only consequences that came to mind involved cleaning duty or some other mindless task that anyone with half a brain could easily perform. Compared to the crap he'd put up with on a normal day as an officer, this might qualify as a holiday of sorts. Maybe he'd kick back and just act like a regular schlub with neither ambition nor pride to his name. None of the other Reapers at his present level seemed to have a problem with slacking off. Renji had always been somewhat curious as to how they could go through life having swords that were barely capable of a Shikai state as well as zero motivation to improve themselves or get stronger.

_And whose fault is that?_ he growled internally. _You used to put them through their paces and they seemed plenty eager to get better back then. It's like everyone forgot what you were trying to teach 'em._

 Scowling, he figured that he would have plenty of time to grow acquainted with the mindset of the rest of his semi-apathetic compatriots. He'd once had the obligations required of his Vice Captain's status and a shot, however remote, of staying by Rukia Kuchiki's side on his own hard-won merits and achievements. Now he had neither and for the first time in his life, he found himself at loose ends. He didn't have to do anything or make anything out of himself any longer. The Sixth Division would still feed him as long as he did his job competently and he was tough enough that no one would be stupid enough to try to abuse him because of his downward slide within the Division.

 Renji thought he might have heard his sword grumble at his attitude, but when he put his hand on Zabimaru's hilt, he received only silence. His resolution was the exact opposite of what Zabimaru wanted but the notion of doing as little as possible, of 'checking out', tickled and intrigued him. While he recognized, deep down, that doing so was nothing more than giving in to the depression that had dogged him since the end of the war, he just couldn't seem to muster up the energy to care.


	2. Chapter 2

Kuchiki Rukia, adopted sister of Kuchiki Byakuya, Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division and member of the august and revered Kuchiki Clan, sat in her formal kimono of snow-white silk shot through with silver threads, bored out of her ever-loving mind and desperate for what had to be the most soul-numbing meeting ever called in the history of meetings to end.

_I swear, if this drags on for another hour I will pretend to faint,_ she silently vowed.

The only thing that kept her in place was the knowledge that at some point, someone would utter something significant, and with her luck, it would pertain to her unmarried status. If she wanted to have any chance of forestalling a decision that might have permanent consequences for her, she had to remain alert.

Thankfully, one of the unofficial pastimes of these deadly-dull gatherings involved the time-honored sport of 'people-watching'. In this case, it was more like 'people-judging', but boredom drove her to participate anyway. Deprived of her colored pencils and paper and without the cell phone issued to her during her stint in the Living World, she tried to keep from fidgeting.

The Audience Chamber of the Four Noble Houses, was a circular, cavernous room with tiered stadium-seating facing a central, gold-painted dais on which people she was supposed to be familiar with but really only knew from her lessons about the Seireitei nobility from her teachers in the Kuchiki Clan made very dry and very long-winded speeches. Divided into four sections corresponding to the four cardinal points of a compass, the seating's demarcations fell along lines of ancient duties and familial obligations reaching back to the founding of the Seireitei.

Rukia found that her designated seat gave her a wonderful vantage point from which to view the other houses' membership. It also placed her front and center and as a result, there would be few opportunities for her to make a quick, unobtrusive exit without tongues wagging.

Clan Kuchiki and their vassals dominated the Western segment of Chamber. All of its Elders were present as well as the Clan Head. While she was the nominal 'heir', thanks to her older brother's lack of issue, Rukia hadn't the slightest drop of 'noble' Kuchiki blood flowing through her veins and therefore, could never truly fulfill the role Byakuya occupied. Protocol and expectation dictated his presence, as well as tradition and so her brother sat, still as a stone, in the most prominent spot. If she was to go by looks alone, he appeared absorbed by the droning speech of the noble in the center of the Chamber. For her part, every time she tried to pay attention, she had to fight to keep her eyelids from drooping.

Rukia wondered if the myriad of nobles behind them were in the same fix. All of the heads of the vassal families that had sworn their allegiance to the Kuchiki Clan had at least one family member or representative present. The sheer number of people sitting behind her and the rest of the Clan's Elders served as a testament to the Kuchiki Clan's status as the oldest Noble Clan in the Seireitei. They filled up the entire Western section of the hall with fine silk kimonos, jewelry and hard stares that Rukia swore she could feel on the back of her neck. In addition to their individual family's colors, those who supported the Kuchiki clan wore the silvery-gray and white of the house somewhere on their persons.

Sliding her eyes to the right, she saw Kukaku Shiba, her younger brother Ganju (thankfully sans Bonnie the boar) and all of the nobility who owed fealty to the Shiba Clan seated behind her in the Southern portion of the Audience Chamber. The one-armed ruffian, with whom Rukia had such a strained and guilt-ridden relationship, looked surprisingly respectable in an elaborately embroidered crimson kimono. The pattern of flames and sunbursts stitched in gold thread flowed across her chest and down over one shoulder to her knees, the design disappearing in the extravagant puddle of silk that covered her feet. Flanked by her twin bodyguards and backed by those noble Clans who had thrown in their lot with Shiba, she appeared both refined and surprisingly dignified. Rukia hadn't known that the spitfire, whose hobbies included pyrotechnics and indulging in large amounts of sake (often at the same time, or so the rumors about her missing arm went) could pull off 'polished' as well as she did. The Southern section of the Audience Chamber appeared to be a riot of warm colors, mostly reds and yellows and for a moment, some of the brighter shades reminded her of Ichigo Kurosaki's eye-catching hair.

Ganju's attempt to match his sister for sophistication via better dressing was less than successful and Rukia took that as a sign that the universe was functioning properly. The pugnacious troublemaker looked put-upon and uncomfortable in his finery and where Rukia tried to keep still in the face of yet another tiresome speech about 'the state of the Seireitei's nobility and their duty towards the downtrodden', Ganju openly squirmed in his seat and looked as if there were at least a thousand other things he'd rather be doing. In that, he had quite a lot of company. Rukia could plainly see the mixed feelings about this tedious meeting and those who were in charge of it on the faces of the supporters sitting behind Kukaku Shiba.

The Shiba Clan had lost a great deal of clout over the last century, with the untimely death of Kaien Shiba and the disappearance, or the possible desertion, of Captain Isshin Shiba a little over twenty years ago. Many of their affiliated families had elected to remain in the Seireitei when the Head and her family had departed for the Rukon District, and later, permanently exiled to it. There were fewer people in attendance to their ancient duties to their supposed First Clan, for the stands were only about three-fourths full of warm bodies. Nevertheless, from the expressions on their faces, those that remained loyal to Kukaku thought that dragging Lady Shiba and her esteemed brother from the Rukon to attend a meeting this pointless had been a waste of their Clan's precious time. Rukia would bet that the minute the speaker finished, the Shiba Clan's vassals would try to make a break for the exits.

To the East, Lady Shihoin wore the full formal regalia of her station and looked every inch the well-groomed and proper noblewoman. However, that was where the illusion ended. In defiance of tradition, she had her very improper, nay, _scandalous_ husband perched at her side, his rumpled garb suggesting he'd slept in his laboratory again. Worse, he'd plopped his white and green-striped hat over his eyes and snored through the majority of the proceedings. Rukia wanted so badly to laugh at what was a symbolic middle finger in the face of the pretentious atmosphere. Urahara was far more devious and intelligent than all of those other nobles vying for time on the podium to jockey for power combined. Rukia had little doubt that if Yoruichi and Urahara had been of a mind to cut this whole mess short, they'd have done so… probably with a bang. There was a part of her that very much wished they would. The fact that they'd let it go on this long meant that Urahara probably found something about the current speech worth mocking by appearing to sleep through it. The Shihoin Clan's followers, a singularly devoted bunch who looked as irritated as those who owed their allegiance to the Shiba, filled the seats of the Eastern section of the hall with silk robes or shoulder-knots in white and various shades of blue, from bright turquoise to a deep, rich royal azure. To while away the time, she counted the number of times the crest of the House of Godly Gears appeared on the Shihoin Clan supporters and lost track of the count twice. If Rukia wasn't mistaken, she thought she spied a large number of those identified with the Fon family, as well members of the Covert Forces and Special Ops. That was no surprise. Just as the Sixth Division belonged to the Kuchiki Clan, the Second Division and the Punishment Forces was the province of the Shihoin.

As far as Rukia was concerned, the North section of the Audience Hall was where the _real_ mysteries lay. She had heard of Clan Gendai, naturally. Her tutors, hired by her brother to help her assimilate to the nobility after her adoption, had covered the Four Noble Clans extensively, discussing their respective histories, their genealogy, their vassals and their political viewpoints in exhausting detail. Gendai was the only other Clan besides the Kuchiki that still entirely lived within the walls of the Seireitei. However, it too, had its difficulties. About sixty or seventy years ago, there had been an inter-familial dispute, which in turn had led to a bloody, internal conflict. That brief, gory matter resulted in the death of the House's only heir, Jiroh Gendai, as well as many others in the Clan and among its supporters. Jiroh had been the Head of the Clan at the time and his demise had forced his father, Rohku Gendai, already an old man, to re-assume the mantle of leadership. The succession had been in dispute for the last several decades, thanks to the son's lack of legitimate issue. There were rumors, unsubstantiated by anyone that Rukia would trust, that the younger Gendai had married in secret, just prior to the coup that had taken his life, but that was all they were. Rumors were dangerous things. Rukia had considered asking her older brother about the incident, to see if there was truth to the gossip, but something always seemed to drag him away from any potential conversation about it, or her duties with the Thirteenth took precedence.

There was a 'somberness' to the Gendai Clan, which stood in contrast to the overwhelming amount of green in the Northern stands, in shades that ranged from the dark green of a stand of tall pines to the fresh hue of cut summer grass. That gravity extended to their current Head, an ancient man who wore every year of his long life on his face and who sat at the foremost place of honor in his Clan's section. Ramrod straight and chin held high, the aged leader had the proper bloodlines to occupy the Seat he held. Unfortunately, once he had relinquished the Sword of Genbu and the title to his son, he could no longer wield the True Power of the position he had vacated. No-one had ever really explained to Rukia what this "true power" was or what the swords had to do with it, save only that only a true heir to the Clan could wield it, rather like a Soul Reaper could be the only one to wield their zanpaktou.

While trying to appear as if she cared about the uninteresting speech and the equally uninteresting speaker, Rukia chose to scrutinize the elderly Lord Gendai a bit closer. He dutifully made his appearances at these meetings, a focal point for the various factions within the Clan and a reminder to all that he was still the one in charge. The thin, frail-looking paper doll of a man sitting on the miniature throne in the center of the Northern section of seats seemed as if a strong gust of wind would knock him over. While the Gendai Clan had a reputation for producing the strongest ground fighters of the Four Noble Clans, one wouldn't know it by looking at their wizened leader. Rukia had never met him in person, having only ever seen him at a distance, but despite the wrinkled countenance, the hunched shoulders and the wisps of white hair, there was something oddly _familiar_ about the cast of the old man's features. Perhaps it was in the stubborn shape of his jaw, the still-high forehead and the set of his chin.

_I **should** know him from somewhere_ , Rukia thought as she surreptitiously studied the reclusive gentleman.

She didn't spend a great deal of time at the various Noble Houses' social functions, but she had to wonder if she'd somehow made an acquaintance of one of the Gendai relatives, unaware of the family connections. The late Lieutenant Kira Izuru had belonged to a branch of one of the Gendai Clan's vassal families after all. It both puzzled and frustrated her, as she was _sure_ she'd seen someone who resembled him recently, or had the same 'look' to him. She knew it in the same way she would know her own features if she stared at them long enough in the mirror. The exasperating part was that no immediate name came to mind.

_Maybe I'll think of it later. There's no use driving myself crazy about this now. The boor hogging the podium is doing a splendid job of that as it is._

As fascinating as she found Rohku Gendai, she had another issue to consider that pertained to the Clan. It involved the young man sitting next to the Head of House Gendai, gazing out at the room with cool dispassion. In many ways, including his refined features, his good looks, his elegance and his fine wardrobe, he reminded her of her older brother. Outwardly, Sakujun Gendai appeared as if he had the world in the palm of his hand. He also had an aura of entitlement that veered in the direction of smugness about his proximity to his particular Head's seat, but then, so did a great many people in the Audience Chamber. What concerned her was the hunger she saw in his eyes as he took in the crowd, lurking below the self-satisfaction. It was as if he were weighing the advantages of devouring this or that person and determining the best way to go about getting the most out of the meal.

She especially didn't like it when his gaze drifted her way.

Rukia knew that look of his well enough to recognize it for what it was and grow concerned. She and Renji had the same looks when they'd scouted out market stalls in order to trick merchants out of their food and water. They'd done so out of necessity. If they'd picked the wrong merchant, one that had a hidden weapon near the front of the store or was fast enough to catch a small fleeing thief, it would have been the end of them. It was this expression that made Rukia instinctively leery of him. Most nobles, even those who spent their time making calculated political moves and weaseling their way up the rickety ladder that was the typical Clan hierarchy, lacked that sort of rabid hunger.

That man, in contrast, was up to something. Rukia would bet her life on it.

The problem, sadly, was that she had no idea what that 'something' was. Was he plotting some political maneuver to grab more influence for Gendai or had he already done it? Was he now pondering his next move? She wished she knew more about the Clan, and about where they fit into the overall scheme of things in the Seireitei. The Kuchiki Clan was responsible for keeping track of the Seireitei's history and the history of the Noble Houses, and the Shihoin had devoted themselves to the rooting out of evil using stealth and wiles. She wasn't quite sure what the Shiba Clan's purpose had originally been, though she doubted it was fireworks. Clan Gendai was a cipher and Rukia wasn't certain she wanted to know anything more about them, considering the brutal things that had made it into the records.

_I can't believe the Elders think I'll consent to marry him!_

Rukia's disgust at the idea, unfortunately, didn't seem to be one of the primary considerations when it came to such a potential suitor.

It wasn't as if she didn't understand their motives. Now that the Winter Was had concluded in the Seireitei's favor and the dust had settled, the Kuchiki Elders had seen fit to attend to what they considered a sorely-neglected subject. Collectively, they'd done various cost-benefit analyses of potential noble husbands and once they'd narrowed down their choices, the old busybodies wouldn't leave well-enough alone. They started in on the subject during a privy council with her and her brother, conducted each morning over breakfast and it was the main topic of conversation during those dinners she managed to catch at the Kuchiki Estate. Rukia found that she'd lost a bit of weight, wolfing her food down and flying out of the door before the esteemed older Kuchiki generation could really get going on the topic.

She had hoped for a reprieve from politics for at least part of today, but to her displeasure, here she sat, trapped by her status and the bad luck not to have been on assignment when the invitation-that-wasn't-truly-an-invitation-and-was-more-of-a-summons to the meeting showed up at the Thirteenth Division. Luckily, her elder brother had kept quiet in the face of the increasingly demanding questions his Elders posed about their chosen candidate's suitability for an alliance. He had not openly disapproved of her being married off... but he hadn't given his consent to it either.

For that, Rukia was grateful. Her brother's silence would, she hoped, give her some room to maneuver her _own_ candidate into place.

The petite young woman had finally realized whom it was that she loved almost, but not _quite_ , too late. It would have been better if she had acknowledged her feelings earlier, but thankfully, she still had time to act now that she'd admitted what she felt to herself. The last thing she wanted was to spend her life trapped in a loveless political union and it had only taken a near-death experience to drag the truth before her, where she had to acknowledge it.

Her life had passed before her eyes while impaled on the tip of the Ninth Espada's lance. He'd worn the false face of Kaien Shiba, but the understanding she'd come to didn't involve her long-dead, once-revered Lieutenant. She had seen her past but it hadn't been like a montage, one scene following the next. Instead, what she'd seen resembled the results of a smashed glass vase. The shards had reflected a thousand different scenes, all jumbled at her feet in an impossible mix of past and present. The individual moments in her life had glittered in a senseless array, some of them catching the light and sparkling and others fading into dismal shadow.

The ones that glowed brightest had included him... up until recently. He'd been her friend for longer than she could remember. Strong and reliable, brash but always supportive, he was there to catch her, whether it was falling from a tree when they were children, or acting as a safety net when Ichigo Kurosaki had cut her bonds and tossed her from the top of the Sōkyoku. At times, it seemed as if Rukia's existence resembled one of those whirling carnival rides so popular with teenagers in the World of the Living and like the axis, Renji was the one to keep her from spinning away into the madness. He always remained steady, never doubting for a moment that he would have the strength to see tomorrow and to bring the people he looked out for along with him. In the last six months, life had been so very unfair; circumstances and the War had taken so many people who hadn't deserved death. They'd been friends, colleagues and sometimes, innocent bystanders. The injustice of it all had worn away at her temper, her patience, her sense of right and wrong. She had railed at him because she couldn't get her hands around Aizen's throat, as the traitor was the one to blame for the carnage. Renji simply stood there and let her scream and beat her fists on him until her overwhelming grief got the better of her and she collapsed in a tear-soaked heap. Then he'd quietly picked her up, tucked her somewhere safe and guarded her as she slept.

For a man who had once told her to leave him behind, to grab her chance at a place of privilege and high status, Renji Abarai had made an awfully conspicuous point of sitting outside of her barely-used quarters at the Thirteenth Division until he was certain she was all right.

She'd been so _angry_ with him for so long, ever since that day at the Academy. He hadn't tried to stop her from taking up the Kuchiki's offer and it left her feeling as though he didn't need her any longer, that he couldn't get rid of her fast enough. Her narrowly-avoided death had granted her the insight and wisdom to see past her grudging bitterness, as well as her feelings of inadequacy. Rukia knew now that he'd let her go because he _cared_. She had begrudged him his swift climb to the top because being upset and jealous had been so much easier than feeling unnecessary. Renji would be there when she needed him most, no matter what the danger and no matter the sacrifice.

In this case, the personal cost had been high. Her hands clutched at the white fabric covering her knees when she thought about the fact he'd lost his Lieutenant status by helping her.

His choice to accompany her to Hueco Mundo had been _his_ decision. He'd told her, before they set out, that he'd made it without hesitation because he wouldn't trust her safety to anyone else, no matter how worthy that person might be. She also knew that her brother had had to save face somehow, and since he was unwilling to punish her, Renji got the short end of the stick. On the two occasions she had tried to bring the subject up with Byakuya, he had curtly dismissed both her and the issue. Despite their brother-sister relationship, he'd informed her that he would not tolerate any interference in matters pertaining to the Sixth Division. He effectively shut her out when it came to Renji and there was little she could do about it.

The timing of Renji's demotion irritated her as well. His former rank had been just sufficient enough to be in the company of and, by a stretch, to pay court to a woman of her station. With enough time and wheedling, she might have been able to make a case for a match between Renji and her to her brother and to the Elders. In her opinion, her childhood friend would have been a most advantageous asset to the Kuchiki Clan. If worse came to worse and her proposal fell on deaf ears, she could have made him invoke the Right of the Sword while he'd still held his Lieutenant's position.

She'd stumbled across the ancient edict while going over the assigned reading her tutors had dumped upon her. Once she'd realized that she was, in fact, in love with the redhead, she'd dug it out to make sure the details of the rite were what she thought. It had fallen out of favor in recent centuries, but Central 46 had never stricken the rite from the scrolls and therefore, they remained an option. Traditionally, a noblewoman 'wronged' by a ranked officer of the Court Guard could name a champion to fight for her and defend her honor against the offending Reaper. If the Reaper were defeated, he would have to pay with his life. In more than one case, Central 46 had interpreted 'pay with his life' as an order for the woman's family to haul the offending Reaper to the nearest temple for a quick and irrevocable wedding.

Rukia tried valiantly to keep from smiling at the images her brilliant little plan let loose in her mind's eye. She knew Renji had deep feelings for her and her original plan had been to trick him into matrimony, if all other plans to obtain permission failed. The knowledge gained from a lifetime spent together during their formative years would grant her just the edge she needed. For instance, she knew that on hot summer evenings he slept with no clothes on in the cramped quarters that served as the Sixth Division's Lieutenant's quarters. Rukia had subsequently come up with what she hoped was a properly devious plan, one that she didn't need to waste time drawing and illustrating with the requisite rabbits for it to succeed. First, she would arrange things in such a way that her brother would need to see his Lieutenant first thing in the morning, planting the see the night before. Then she would sneak out of her rooms in the middle of the night, strip naked and climb into Renji's bed. After all, they had once slept in a pile with the other children in winter and they had bathed and swum naked together in the lakes during the summer. Rukia figured that it couldn't really be all that different now. Renji probably wouldn't even wake up when she entered the room, especially if she was careful.

_Then when Nii-sama comes to see his Lieutenant in the morning..._ Rukia thought, with a devilish internal chuckle.

He'd walk in and see her there with them both in Renji's bed, minus a stitch of clothing and she could rightfully challenge a ranking officer of Seireitei to a trial by Right of Sword on the spot. The only downside was her fear that her brother, as Head of the Clan, would insist on defending her honor himself and she didn't want Renji dead before the rite forced him to marry her. It was the only real fly in the ointment as far as that plan went.

_Well, there's that **and** the fact that Renji might have a problem with the whole thing_.

That she even had to contemplate such underhanded and sneaky methods was what really made her angry. Rukia had originally planned to follow the route that Lady Shihoin had done a hundred years ago, and bide her time until Renji had been "made" into a successful and well-liked Captain. In Yoruichi's case, it meant a grant of forgiveness on the part of the Head Captain for Urahara's wrongful exile, which had required a century and a war to obtain. Given her Renji's skill and his strength, she didn't think it would take him that long to reach the same status. Unfortunately, there had been all of those talks recently of the Clan marrying her off to the Gendai Heir-Apparent, so she'd had to nix that idea and pick a plan that didn't involve waiting. It wasn't perfect, and Renji might not forgive her for violating his honor, but he always forgave her _eventually_ for anything. He would cool off after the wedding, once he realized that her intentions were noble, though the means underhanded.

His demotion had even scuttled that plan and she ground her molars together in frustration. Rukia wondered if her brother somehow knew or had guessed at her plans and had moved to nip them in the bud. However, she hadn't breathed a word of her scheme to anyone, nor hinted at it, so she doubted that had been the reason Renji's punishment had been so severe.

_Well, he's Renji, so chances are that he'll be climbing ranks soon again anyway,_ she hoped.

After all, nothing could keep him down for long. He'd placed higher than she had in their classes at the Academy and he'd immediately obtained a Seated position once he'd entered the Fifth Division upon graduation, as well as another one upon his transfer to the Eleventh. He'd swiftly risen to a much higher seat there based on his ability to kick butts and take names. If he'd done it once, he could make the climb again. This time he might even rise faster, knowing what the higher-ups expected of a Seated Officer. He had a Bankai after all, and that would make him something of a hot commodity among the squads.

_Maybe if he transferred squads_ , Rukia considered, trying to gauge the best way to get him up those ranks faster.

There were plenty of open Lieutenants' Seats without qualified bodies to fill them. Maybe he could move to the Ninth Squad. He'd always been good friends with his former sempai, Shuuhei Hisagi, who was now shy one Lieutenant. Once he'd joined Ninth, it wouldn't take long for him to work his way back up to at least 3rd Seat, if Captain Hisagi didn't promote him to Lieutenant on the spot. Rukia briefly considered recommending him for the Fifth Division, but she didn't like the idea of him serving under Captain Ise. It wasn't as though she _disliked_ Captain Ise, or thought Renji would do anything inappropriate, but Nanao Ise wasn't without her own brand of charm and Rukia wasn't keen on competition. She knew he would probably have preferred to go back to the Eleventh to lick his wounds, especially if it meant he could beat the crap out of people in a fit of pique, but that Division already had a Lieutenant. The Twelfth was right out. One had to be both smart and somewhat suicidal to get in there and Renji had a well-known fear of clowns. He might be able to get into the Thirteenth, but after having gone so long without a lieutenant, Rukia thought that her Captain might not be eager to fill the spot with just anybody, even if she asked him to do so. There might also be a conflict of interest if Captain Ukitake accepted him, as the higher-ups generally frowned upon getting involved with a member of one's own Division.

Her brother's normally statue-like posture slumped for a second and when she glanced up at him, wondering if he was well, the look in his eyes told her he was a million miles away and paying even less attention to the proceedings that she. Then he was back in the here and now and seemed to catch himself. His eyes slid down to meet hers and he gave the tiniest of nods, perhaps to reassure her. Rukia returned it and carefully went back to watching the elite of the Seireitei, and plotting her own next moves.

Her plan wasn't entirely dead, just delayed a little bit, she told herself. All she had to do would be to postpone any serious talk of betrothal or matrimony until Renji made Lieutenant again, or at the very least, reached the status of a seated officer. Then she could nab him, by hook or by crook. There was still the matter of her brother to worry about but Rukia either had faith in her ability to find a way around her brother's potential disapproval, or trusted that Renji would somehow survive her sibling's wrath.

He'd managed to hold his own against Byakuya Kuchiki once.

Rukia knew he could do it again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Byakuya Kuchiki reviewed his notes on the most recent candidate presented by the secret cabal working across the traditional Clan boundaries. On the surface, there was nothing wrong with the man. Middle-aged and of middling temperament, he had an excellent record of service to his Clan and good managerial skills, as evidenced by the number of recommendations by both his superiors and those he supervised. What little written commentary he could attribute to the candidate revealed 'safe', uncontroversial opinions. If he didn't know any better, there was little to distinguish the man from a houseplant. Kuchiki could not find anything, specifically, to which he could object and that irked him.

The bland nominee was just the latest in a long line of attempts by the cabal to get their own men into place in Central Forty-Six. Byakuya had managed, so far, to keep the number of candidates suggested by the cabal down to manageable levels, but it was getting more difficult to weed out all of them. He had to provide justification for his rejections and had to back up his 'no' vote with solid reasons as to why the candidate was unsuitable for the position. Only the Shihoin Clan could outdo the Kuchiki family when it came to access to spies and information and no one could surpass the Kuchiki Clan with regard to the one thing that would universally loosen tongues, which was a vast reservoir of wealth at its disposal. Nevertheless, even with all of these advantages, he found it difficult to dismiss every warm body thrust at him out of hand, especially when the cabal went to such great lengths to present him with the most innocuous of puppets.

The man at the podium, on the other hand, had done a fabulous job of scuttling his chances at nomination when he'd opened his mouth and forgot the close the thing. Byakuya knew exactly where he would put the man's recommendation when he received it. The last he heard, Ganju Shiba was in the process of housebreaking that boar of his and the Heir to the Kuchiki Clan had every intention of contributing the recommendation and the paper on which is was written to the cause.

There was also the chance that many of the potential Central 46 members had no idea their nomination had been anything but a recommendation from a higher-ranking Clan member. It galled Byakuya to think that he might actually be rejecting an otherwise acceptable applicant because of his or her shadow sponsors. The irony of that did not escape him.

For a moment, he considered making up an unsavory rumor about the man and putting that down as grounds for elimination. It was imperative that he keep the numbers of the opposition small. If they gained too much unchecked power within the ranks of Central 46, the very foundation of the Seireitei and of the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions would be at risk.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to know the cabal existed and he would tip his hand if he blatantly denied each and every one of their suggested nominees. He had just enough political experience to see the evidence that it did exist when said cabal made a move. He'd also become adept at interpreting each of its subtle maneuverings when it came to staffing the next Central 46. However, he could not outright prove it existed, not without written evidence or a testimony, nor did he have the names of any of its suspected members. His best guess was that they were the remains of the machinery put in place by the former Captain Aizen in the century prior to his defection and there hadn't been nearly enough time following the end of the Winter War to root out everything Aizen had done in the last hundred years or so. Such an endeavor would take manpower and resources the Seireitei currently lacked. It also meant that the individuals in question had had more than enough time to entrench themselves and hide their tracks if they were smart. With the traitor gone, they'd done what most loosely-organized covert groups eventually did and had begun moving on their own. That meant consolidating power for themselves and their individual factions as well as weakening the Four Noble Clans in the process.

_The fools seem to think they'll gain greater freedoms in doing so. Instead, they're slitting their own throats,_ Byakuya thought to himself.

He schooled his features to hide the disgust he felt and let out a long breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. Fabricating a lurid rumor was beneath someone of his position and he decided against it. Maybe he could simply bring up the candidate's lack of outstanding achievement over the last one-hundred years while he'd labored in the bowels of his Clan's archives.

The cabal had dreams of a new era in Seireitei, with a more 'even' distribution of power. They believed that the Four Noble Clans were relics of the past. In theory, he could understand their position and their desire for a greater say in the workings of the Seireitei. Such egalitarian forms of government sometimes worked in the World of the Living, and occasionally, they even worked well. However, Soul Society was _not_ the material world and neither was the Seireitei. Those small fish had no idea of the depths of the waters in which they sought to swim, or of the monsters that lurked beneath the surface. The Seireitei functioned the way it did for good reasons and the Heads of the Four Noble Clans were the ones tasked with keeping those reasons a well-guarded secret. There were things in the universe that were far more dangerous than those little guppies could imagine.

Unfortunately, the guppies had chosen a fine time to attempt a power grab and Byakuya worried that they might actually succeed if he, and the other Clan leaders, weren't vigilant.

_Most of the other Clans have deteriorated in power, in one way or another and that includes my family as well. It's little wonder our opponents feel we've outlived our usefulness_.

He pondered the Shiba as primary examples of this. The main family had retreated to the Southern Rukon District a little over a century-and-a-half ago. The reasons for doing so remained a mystery to this day. What wasn't in dispute was the fact that her Clan was not as influential as it had once been. The disappearance of her uncle, The Tenth Division's Isshin Shiba, twenty years ago and the untimely deaths of both Kaien Shiba and his wife Miyako, hadn't helped matters. The only full-blooded members of the Clan remaining were Kukaku Shiba and her younger brother, Ganju. No matter how his own elders urged him, he would never inflict that brawling fool, with his pig fetish and the manners of a barnyard animal to match, upon Hisana's little sister. Neither of the two had spouses and Byakuya didn't want to contemplate someone like Ganju legitimately wielding the Sword of Suzaku.

The Shihoin Clan, on the other hand, still had a strong and healthy Clan Head in Yoruichi, and things were looking up now that she had finally married that man of hers, but they had yet to produce an heir. The lack of a child with a direct bloodline to the Clan's ancestors was a weakness none of the Clans could afford, especially now. The reasons for that went far, _far_ beyond mere noble snobbery. The power to the Four Directions, of the Four Great Beasts and the ability to use the great weapons meant to keep the forces of chaos at bay ran along those specific bloodlines. The Four Noble Clans were the pillars upon which the Clan founders built the Seireitei. The loss of any of the pillars meant the collapse of the entire thing and they simply could not allow that to happen. With any luck, his old childhood nemesis would come down with a serious case of morning sickness, swollen ankles and pickle cravings. Once the Shihoin heir had taken his or her first breath, the only problem he could see would involve keeping a child with such parents from creating widespread mayhem the moment he or she could crawl. Byakuya's heavy, formal kimono hid the shiver that ran up his spine at the thought.

The Kuchiki Clan still maintained its grip on all of its power and influence within the Seireitei, but they were in much the same fix as the Shiba when it came to creating another generation. That, he admitted, was entirely his fault. Despite the fact he knew he had a duty to perform, he had not been able to stomach the idea of seeking a new wife to replace his beloved Hisana. More than enough time had passed since her death and by extending the mourning period to encompass every year he'd survived her, he was taking a terrible risk. One might argue he was being derelict in his sworn duty to remarry and continue the line. He'd avoided doing so despite everyone from his seneschal to the Head Captain repeatedly reminding him of his family obligations. Rukia was heir apparent, but she was _not_ of the Kuchiki bloodline and Byakko's Sword would not sing for her.

_Still, I suppose we are in no worse a position than Clan Gendai,_ Kuchiki reflected.

That Clan had made do the best they could since the assassination of its legitimate successor and the wielder of the Sword of Genbu, Jiroh Gendai. Byakuya tuned out the long-winded oration of the man on the podium, pompously bleating about matters he knew next to nothing about and gave himself permission to reminisce about better times…

****

Byakuya Kuchiki wove through the complex patterns of a sword form as easily as a snake uncoiled from a tree-limb, lithe and supple. He was pleased with that afternoon's exercise and he vowed to work on his flash-step next, followed by the newest Kido regimen recommended by his private tutor. A cool-down would follow with the bare-handed moves and if he was lucky, he would finish with an hour of meditation.

"Not bad, boy! Not bad at all!"

An unwelcome voice called to him from the side of the yard and with it, Byakuya saw his perfectly-planned afternoon take flight and bid him a sad farewell.

He had been aware of the intruder for the last twenty minutes and had studiously ignored him. The man shared Yoruichi Shihoin's annoying habit of dropping in on him unannounced, though that was probably more to save time with the redundancy of a salutation. The Head of Clan Gendai put little effort into disguising or suppressing his reiatsu, and anyone with half a brain could sense his unrestrained power a mile away. The words 'subtle' and 'controlled' weren't part of that man's vocabulary. Neither, apparently, was the phrase 'by invitation only'.

A person would have an easier time ignoring a singing mountain, for heaven's sake!

The young heir to Clan Kuchiki moved on to the next kata in his regimen. He only had a little more time left to prepare before he was to test for the Academy, and Byakuya Kuchiki did not want to come in second place. The shame of such ignominy would be more than his House could bear and he wasn't going to let an interruption, in the form of his mentor, get in the way of an accomplishment.

"You're still a little weak on your off-hand, though," Jiroh added, picking up a nearby wooden practice blade.

He proceeded to swing deftly at the spot on Byakuya's person that he deemed a problem. Quick as a cat, Byakuya moved automatically to block the sword. Too late, he realized that the angle of his grip on the bokken was wrong and the blade stabbed downward into the dirt. Jiroh twisted his own sword slightly, Byakuya's grip released, and the sword in the young noble's hand clattered to the ground. The older man did not have to touch his throat with his wooden sword. They both knew he'd already won.

"You see what I mean now?"

Byakuya's face reddened with embarrassment at Jiroh besting him with such a basic move. Of course, Jiroh Gendai had a century of training under his belt, but it was still a blow to Byakuya's ego. He'd seen Jiroh Gendai fight. The man had power and experience to spare, but Byakuya Kuchiki shared his grandfather's opinion of the way those of Clan Gendai fought. Hack and bash, no style or finesse, just plenty of raw, punishing, brute power. None would have been out of place in Eleventh Division. The main family, down through the generations, had all been cut from the same, durable cloth. They were the epitome of brute strength combined with physical force and little to no finesse. Jiroh was a fighter in every sense of the word. No one would deny that when he hit his mark, the hits counted… usually in cracked skulls and broken bones. However, he never bothered with Kido if he could help it, his flash step was mediocre at best and he his grasp of strategy remained the equivalent of that of a first-year Academy student. He was a member of the 'bludgeon it until it falls down and if it keeps moving, pound it until it doesn't' school of tactics. Most of Jiroh's fights lasted one or two strikes at the most and of the stronger opponents, three or four had done the trick.

After the Demon-Cat's defection to parts unknown when Central 46 sentenced and exiled her friends and former 3rd Seat, the Head of Clan Gendai took up the task of keeping an eye on the young heir to Clan Kuchiki. The big, bluff Jiroh, in Yoruichi's stead, had apparently decided that he was going to fulfill the role of annoying elder brother to Byakuya, but if one had asked Byakuya about the relationship, he would have said that he wished that his 'mentor's' interest in him was a little less keen. The man had some of the _oddest_ notions as to what constituted 'helping' and most of those involved some surprisingly low-brow pastimes.

Lord Gendai had a habit of hauling Byakuya away from his training and his studies to 'go out and experience life', whether his victim wanted the experience or not. During one such foray, Jiroh kidnapped Byakuya and took him out to one of the outer Districts in the west end to witness ostrich-racing. The time before that it had been an all-you-can-drink sake bowl on the Rukon District's southern end. The results of that little jaunt had not been pretty for anyone involved and Byakuya hadn't been able to stomach the sight of a sake bottle for weeks afterwards. The time before that, Jiroh had somehow become mistakenly convinced that a newly-turned-sixteen-year-old Byakuya Kuchiki was in need of more instruction in 'becoming a man' than what his late father had provided. The subsequent tour of the east side's finest brothels had left Byakuya with more of an education than he knew what to do with and he was sure that his brain had mercifully blocked parts of the ordeal from his memory. With any luck, they would stay blocked and he could pretend that the stains on his clothing were nothing more than the result of a spilled restaurant meal.

"Guess what, Little Whirlwind?" the older man asked him with a grin that set off every alarm bell in Byakuya's head. The younger, soon-to-be Academy student pushed his long black bangs out of his face and narrowed his eyes in response, both for the use of the unwelcome nickname and the trouble it usually heralded.

"I'm not going," he said flatly, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

Jiroh waved his defensive stance away as if it were nothing and sidled up to him, throwing a brawny arm around Byakuya's shoulders and drawing him closer.

"You spend too much time cooped up in this place with all of these tutors and books. No wonder you're pale as a ghost! I half-expect to look down and find your feet missing! Books and kata are fine for passing the Academy's tests, but the _real_ things you need to know… boy, you can't find any of those in the pages of some dusty old tome! You need to get out and experience things, lad, or all of the best of the world will pass you by and you'll miss it!"

Byakuya considered that his definition of the 'best of the world' and Jiroh's were leagues apart. All of the places to which Jiroh Gendai took him were crowded, noisy and dirty. The older man seemed to be on a never-ending quest to pull the young Kuchiki heir out of what he perceived as some sort of shell. He was forever shoving Byakuya into the middle of boisterous crowds, insisting that the young man do this or that he try that, whether it was singing, dancing, shouting, gambling, drinking or even fighting. Jiroh Gendai was a bar-room brawler without parallel and considered the pastime a legitimate sport. On more than one occasion, Byakuya Kuchiki had narrowly missed getting his exquisite clothing or his person soiled, or worse, bruised in some of the tavern melees in which Jiroh inevitably ended up.

"You can forget it," Byakuya grumbled, irritated. "I only have a few short weeks until I take the examinations and you've already pointed out that my technique still needs work."

"I didn't come here with the intent of leaving empty-handed, boy," the Gendai said and that grin got just a wee bit wider.

Byakuya knew that grin, and it usually meant there was a fight in his immediate future. Sure enough, Jiroh gazed speculatively at the various weapons available to him, as if weighing each length of wood with his eyes and calculating the amount of damage he might do with each.

"I'll tell you what," the brawny Head of Clan Gendai said. "I'll give you a fair shot at getting out of it."

Byakuya didn't bother to hide his skepticism and snorted. The Gendai sauntered over to the rack, picked out a large, heavily-padded wooden sword, and tossed Byakuya another lighter sword to replace his old one.

"If you can beat me in a fight, fledgling, I'll let you stay in yer little nest," Jiroh proposed magnanimously. "If I win though, there's this gorgeous little gem in the south of the Seventy-Ninth District you have to see to believe. A dancer. The loveliest little thing I've ever laid eyes on. Eyes like emeralds, hair the color of freshly spilt blood, hips wide and generous enough for many sons, breasts as ripe as two fine melons... form as supple and flexible as a rag and a voice that would make a nightingale weep at its inadequacy."

Byakuya raised both dark brows at that statement as the list of the woman's virtues grew to ridiculous lengths. Jiroh Gendai made no secret of his love of women. It wasn't cynical to say that there probably wasn't a 'night blossom', the Rukon slang word for a licensed prostitute, bar-maid, dancing-girl or orange-seller in the whole of the north Districts whose charms hadn't been sampled by the Head of Clan Gendai. When it came to the pleasures of the flesh, Jiroh's appetite was without equal. To be fair to the man, he might have all the sexual morals of a roving tomcat and used his handsome face to his advantage at times, but he only partook of willing girls and those willing girls were legion. He took his light of loves wherever he might find them and slept with whoever might have him, enthusiastically and often. However, though the Elders of his Clan pressed noblewoman after noblewoman on him with the hopes that he would find one to marry, the relatively young Head of the Clan remained obstinately single, vowing that he would only wed for love. In Byakuya's experience, Jiroh could hardly remember the name of the last girl who'd caught his eye before he was on to the next conquest. To hear him wax rhapsodic of one particular girl in such a reverential tone was not only unusual, it was blatantly out of character.

Despite knowing that any trip to the Rukon with Jiroh would end in some sort of debacle, in much the same way that summer inevitably followed spring, he had to admit to himself that he was intrigued.

"I'm almost tempted to go along just to see this paragon myself," Byakuya muttered, then realized his mistake as he saw his opponent's eyes light up.

Out of all the scenarios he could imagine, the least likely was that Jiroh had fallen head-over-heels in love. Still, Byakuya had his pride to protect, and his pride wouldn't allow what he'd just said to stand in the way of possibly getting out of a potentially disastrous trip to the Seventy-Ninth District. Therefore, he picked up the wooden sword and charged at Jiroh without warning. He swung swiftly, the wood whistling through the air as he tried to catch his opponent off-guard. He should have known better of course. A fighter like Jiroh Gendai never let his guard down. The older man easily blocked his swing and Byakuya barely flash-stepped out of the way of Jiroh's counter swing. The man's movements were wider and slower, but proportionately more powerful. The two times in succession that Byakuya had to block one of Jiroh's blows had left his hands tingling and numb. The match was over in a few more moves, with Jiroh as the victor. The padded weapon came down on his shoulder, the 'tap' feeling almost like an insult, in that there was little power behind it. Jiroh could have disabled him with it. The fact he had not indicated the other wanted Byakuya fully functional for whatever plans he had for that evening.

"You're getting better lad," the older man said and chuckled as Byakuya scowled at the bokken in his hand, as if it had somehow let him down. "You're well on your way to surpassing me at flash-step. You're not at Yoruichi's level yet, but in due time I'm sure you'll catch up to the Goddess of Flash, wherever she is now. As it stands, your skill with a sword is decent. I can't wait to see what your Zanpakuto looks like. It'll probably be another wind-type, as they run in your family."

Jiroh continued to speculate cheerfully on Byakuya's as-yet-undiscovered Zanpakuto as he force-marched the defeated young man out of the manor, past the South Gate and out into the Rukon Districts. Byakuya never much liked going out there and failed to see why Jiroh found it so fascinating. There were few in the region with any measureable reiatsu and from what he could see, the entire District needed a good scrubbing. Byakuya's fastidious nature shied away from the unwashed masses, the dirt and the noise. The only thing he didn't mind was the abundant greenery. Within the Seireitei's walls, "nature" was a tamed, collared thing. The gentry and the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions kept the flora trimmed, neatly managed and well-cultivated. There were perfectly groomed little parks with miniature forests as part of their design, but one could always see the hand of man in every feature if one knew where to look. In the Rukongai, especially in the outer districts, the populace's neglect allowed nature a freer hand. Sometimes, that carelessness led to some truly beautiful, if chaotic, surprises as far as the local countryside went.

However, the forest was not Jiroh's goal that night and they kept to the teeming and grubby streets. Jiroh flash-stepped them out to what had to be one of the very farthest districts to judge by the stagnant smell of the river and the all-around squalor. Street urchins that resembled rats in both their behavior and their hungry countenances scampered out of the way at their approach. Older people eyed them, as if sizing them up to see whether an attempt to relieve them of their purses would be worth it. They inevitably turned away when they took in the blades at their hips. This was wise of them, Byakuya thought.

The place that Jiroh led him to was nice in comparison to the street on which it sat. It was a large sentou, which was a surprise. A high wall surrounded the bathhouse and a clear stream ran through the complex's property, which backed up to a section of thick forest. The red terra cotta roof was intact, the walls were all in good repair, and the front yard and garden appeared well-swept with greeters bowing and ushering them in. It didn't even smell. Byakuya heaved a mental sigh of relief that somehow, Jiroh had found the one bright spot of civilization in the middle of the grimiest destination yet.

The mistress of the house, 'Madame Amber', greeted Jiroh personally. Byakuya caught on to the fact that, while the place's main function might be to serve as a bathhouse, many of the serving girls within it were also professional courtesans, each of them denoted by the name of a gemstone.

"I hope my Ruby is free this evening," Jiroh said after getting the pleasantries out of the way.

He rubbed his hands together with a hopeful, almost pleading look on his face. Amber, a blonde with a too-knowing smile and sharp eyes outlined in a little too much kohl, seated them in a private room and proceeded to order the staff to bring in sake and refreshments. Jiroh's expression was both possessive and anticipatory and he all but fidgeted on the cushion as he awaited the woman they'd come to see. Byakuya still had a hard time believing what he was seeing. Jiroh. In love.

"She can be, young master," Amber said significantly. Jiroh smiled a little and held out a small pouch of coins to the woman who made it disappear as if by magic.

After a brief wait, Byakuya got to see the woman who had somehow managed to catch his womanizing friend's eye. Even he had to admit that she was a beauty. She was tall, with a voluptuous figure. Her bone structure was surprisingly delicate and her facial features were fine, with high cheekbones, narrow eyes, a patrician nose and an elfin chin. Her hair was indeed the bright color of light shining through a fine ruby, and her eyes gleamed like the emeralds he'd described earlier. As she danced, for that was what she did, her movements were naturally graceful rather than practiced. She moved, lithe and supple, as easily as a snake slid through tall grass or reared back, its head weaving and swaying, preparing to strike. With the proper training, Byakuya thought she would make an excellent fighter.

The dancer who had managed to capture Jiroh's heart however was _not_ who held Byakuya's attention that evening.

All dancers needed musical accompaniment, and that music came courtesy of a young woman who played the erhu, a stringed instrument with a long, thin neck, a tiny drum-like sounding chamber at the bottom. She played with the instrument resting against her lap, skillfully drawing the bow across the strings. Under most circumstances, unless the player was the focus of a recital or some such, Byakuya Kuchiki ignored musicians as one would ignore furniture. They were there to provide a pleasant atmosphere and that was all the regard they needed or required. The noble culture in which he'd grown up had instilled this attitude in him. This particular musician had gone to great pains to downplay her presence, dressing in pale colors to blend in with the surroundings and hanging back in the shadows. Despite this attempt to disappear into the wallpaper, there was something about her that kept bringing Byakuya's eyes to her.

He couldn't quite explain what it was he found so fascinating about the young woman. She was a diminutive little thing, with a round, cherubic face and tiny hands that made the instrument sing. She let off a very light pressure of reiatsu. It had the sweet, fleeting scent of flowers that bloomed only in spring, but that wasn't what truly drew his attention. Though she bowed her head over her instrument and concentrated solely on her music, it was her dark eyes that attracted his gaze in the same way that a magnet attracted iron. Those mysterious, bottomless depths hypnotized him, though she never actually looked in his direction. The emotions he saw in them while she played danced just beneath the surface of those indigo pools, as if she'd seen more that her fair share of darkness and light.

Jiroh could have his 'Ruby'. Byakuya found himself captivated by a gem of a different color.

Upon further study, he decided that she had a certain wistful elegance about her, a nobility of spirit that was tragically beautiful in its suffering, resilient as the reed that bent to the wind yet always maintained its uprightness after a storm. Jiroh, too wrapped up in his own little world with his dancer, paid little heed to his young companion. Byakuya Kuchiki, feeling unusually nervous about what he was about to do, rose and moved to sit near the erhu player, ostensibly so that he could hear her better.

She played beautifully, as skilled as any he had heard. Considering his position, Byakuya Kuchiki had heard some of the finest musicians in the Soul Society. He was no stranger to complex musical arrangements and had heard the works of many excellent composers. Her music, by contrast, was simple, but well-played. It carried with it a sense of melancholy tempered with resilient fortitude and a will to persevere that fascinated him.

When the girl finished her set and rested her fingers, Gendai and his lady friend took that as their cue to make themselves scarce. The older man threw a casual, 'go have fun, boy!' over his shoulder as he plucked 'Ruby' up and carried her off as if someone or something would snatch her away from him at any minute.

_Some responsible guardian you are,_ Byakuya thought sourly at his 'older brother's' back, a bit stunned at the abandonment.

That certainly wasn't normal behavior for Jiroh either. Usually, he'd finish whatever mission he'd dragged Byakuya on and then drop a wearied and usually bedraggled Byakuya back home. It was only _after_ he'd gotten his protégé to safety that he went back to partake of whatever woman had captured his fancy.

Well, that settled it, the young man decided as he stared at the door through which his mentor had disappeared. Jiroh had it bad.

Byakuya considered leaving. After all, it certainly had not been his idea to come here, but then the girl, or so he guessed as she looked to be about his age, started to play again, probably figuring that she still had a guest in the room and a job to do. The young Kuchiki heir, perhaps scrounging for a rationalization that would allow him to stay, determined that it would be a waste of a trip not to enjoy the music since he was already there. She played three more pieces, a fast- paced composition featuring a great many arpeggios, and two slower melodies designed to soothe and relax. When she was done with that set and had paused to give her fingers a break, Byakuya found himself hopelessly entranced.

His throat felt unexpectedly dry and his chest felt oddly tight. He was never one for conversation, believing that silence would speak for itself, but in this case, he felt compelled to say something, anything that might bring the musician closer to him.

"You, ah, you play surprisingly well," he managed.

The fae creature looked at him, a long, unblinking gaze that seemed cautious and shuttered.

"Surprisingly?"

It was at that moment that he realized that what he'd just said sounded incredibly rude.

"I mean… I…" Byakuya caught himself. He'd never actually been flustered before and against his better judgment, decided to try again. "Your form and aptitude with the instrument are not sub-par. However did you learn to play so well out here?"

The young woman's gaze cooled noticeably and Byakuya felt his spirits sink.

"I was given to understand that the nobility born and raised within the confines of the Seireitei were taught not to insult those who serve them, that their manners were polished and impeccable."

"And you even speak well too!" he blurted out then, grimaced and kicked himself, wanting to sink through polished wood floor in embarrassment. Just about anything would have been better than what he'd just said.

"Ah yes," she said with a sweet smile that, at the same time, held a sharp blade between its teeth. "Sometimes I even remember to wash with soap and eat with utensils."

"I didn't mean…" he stumbled. This was coming out all wrong. He'd never been so flustered while speaking with another person before and the novelty of treading on his tongue didn't sit right with him.

"If you'll excuse me, Milord," she said with a stiff bow from the waist. "It is the end of my shift here, and another duty calls me away."

Without another word, she stood in his presence without permission and all but stalked to the door, her posture radiating a sense of injured pride.

"Wait!" he commanded, trying not to sound utterly desperate.

She paused. Her back was to him and her hand rested on the door, ready to slide it open and depart.

"You shall…" he began and caught himself before he could make yet another inexcusable verbal blunder, "I mean, uhm…will you be here tomorrow at this time? I... I enjoy hearing you play."

The petite musician turned slightly and he thought he saw something shimmer in the indigo depths of her wide eyes and hoped it might be something other than a denial. After a long pause, she nodded once and continued on her way, sliding the door shut behind her.

No one was more surprised than Byakuya Kuchiki when he finished his practice session the next day, then bathed and went to his chambers to change and found himself at a loss for what to wear. His destination was one of the lowest Districts, so he knew he ought not to wear anything too fine, yet he didn't want to insult the girl by dressing below his station. He dithered for a while, debating the merits of this one or that and finally decided on a deep blue cotton outfit embroidered with grey cranes. His manservant's comment about the subtle tastefulness of his choice made him feel better, at least about his ability to dress himself.

The look of abiding shock on his 'older brother's' face when the fastidious young Kuchiki showed up to accompany him on his visit to see his dancer girl was almost worth it. Byakuya ignored Gendai's teasing with practiced ease and instead, centered his attention on the girl whose name he had yet to learn as she took up the first of her three sets of music. After a half-hour's dancing, Gendai and his red-haired lover left the room to go and entertain one other with music making of another sort. He left Byakuya in the company of the erhu player, much as he had the previous night. This time, the young noble was glad his older companion had deserted him.

"Are you hungry?"

Byakuya asked this politely, the inquiry a gambit to engage the object of his interest in conversation. Food seemed a safe subject, as he doubted she was interested in idle chit-chat about the weather. Unfortunately, talking about the weather was the only fallback topic his tutors had instilled in him when it came time to instruct their young charge on the finer points of witty banter with another noble. Perhaps that was why Byakuya hated idle prattle as much as he did. However, there weren't many things in the room, other than the tray of refreshments and the empty sake bottle, to work with as far as conversation starters.

"Thank-you, no," she responded softly.

"I could order more sake, if you wish," he tried again.

"I do not partake of alcohol," she replied. "Milord should be cautious if he drinks. There are many in this District that will prey upon the unwary and the inebriated, regardless of rank."

He blinked a little at the warning she delivered. Even if he hadn't yet entered the Academy just yet, he was certainly capable of holding his own against a few back-alley ruffians. He was a Kuchiki after all. Still, Byakuya himself was not fond of alcohol and that one outing with Jiroh hadn't helped matters. It was a taste he had yet to acquire and kept to one cup at any given function.

"And yourself?" he asked next, surprised at his own boldness. "Will you be alright when you leave this place?"

"Safety, milord, is a relative concept in Hangdog," she said, a touch of wryness in her voice. "But yes, I have taken enough precautions as far as my personal safety."

Byakuya looked piercingly at her and was less than reassured by her statement. She was small, and so very frail-looking. He could imagine that the slightest breeze might take her with it, bearing her away with it like a fallen sakura petal. There was silence between them for a time while he listened to her play.

"You truly do have a remarkable talent with the instrument," he said at a pause between two songs.

The young woman merely smiled politely at him.

"If you want," he said, a slight inspiration seizing him. "I could bring you into Seireitei where you could have proper lessons. In a few years' time, with access to the right tutors, you could command your price on any stage in Seireitei."

"I am afraid that is impossible," the girl said with what sounded like wistfulness.

"If you are worried about the propriety I can assure you that the patronage of talented artists isn't frowned upon. In fact, it's encouraged! There are many who think that artistic aptitude heralds a blossoming soul and that those souls go on to become Reapers in a few lifetimes. You would have a room all to yourself and you'd have lessons… and I... I could see you again…"

He knew he sounded as if he was pleading and he swallowed, wondering if he looked as bad as Jiroh had yesterday, when he'd inquired after 'Ruby'. His throat worked as he watched her face for any sort of acquiescence.

Initially, she appeared almost hopeful as he described the sort of life she could have under Kuchiki sponsorship. He could see her pondering the possibility of a roof over her head, proper meals and the fine clothing she might get to wear. Byakuya was certain that she would allow him to act as her benefactor, but to his everlasting shock she slowly, regretfully shook her head.

"I am sorry but I must decline your offer," the young lady replied and lowered those beautiful eyes to gaze at the hands folded in her lap.

Now he was a bit irritated. He had offered this girl a tremendous step up from a life of poverty in a filthy, dangerous outer district and she had the temerity to turn him down twice! His temper, still not perfectly under his control, spiked a bit.

"Exactly why, might I ask, would you possibly decline? Do you prefer playing for ruffians?"

Once the words left his mouth, he realized that, for the second night in a row, he'd managed to step in it and this time, he'd truly angered her.

"My audience," she reprimanded him in the cool, precise tones of a noblewoman delivering the ultimate severing of bonds, the dreaded 'cut direct', "has nothing to do with why I cannot agree to your terms, as generous as they are. I have a greater duty here. Duty is something that I would hope someone with your breeding might understand. Good day to you, Milord."

She rose swiftly and gave him a subservient bow, as one might expect of a social inferior, but Byakuya could tell by the tense set of her shoulders that she was incredibly displeased with him and it was likely she would find a way to avoid his company in the future.

_It's probably better this way,_ Byakuya told himself on the way home.

He had no reason to stay after she'd quit the room and as there was no sign of Jiroh, leaving seemed the right thing to do, even if it felt as if he was doing so with his tail between his legs. Her repudiation, however, didn't stop the fluttering of his heart within his chest, as if it were a bird trapped in a locked cage, trying to escape and follow her into the wide, unknown skies.

Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't even begin to explain his fascination with her. He had known her for a mere day and lacked even a name to attribute to the girl. There was no reason to treat her any differently than any other servant and yet, it was as if he'd recognized something in her, something that seemed to be a match for something inside of him. He very much wanted to find out what that something was. It wasn't 'love at first sight', for Byakuya did not believe in fairy tales. Rather, it was as if he'd come across someone he ought to know, discovering a piece of his existence he hadn't realized was missing until yesterday.

_The family would never allow it. Patronage is one thing and they might even look the other way at a dalliance, but a relationship? Never in a thousand years. They already have my betrothed all picked out and she certainly is not a young woman from the third lowest district in the Southern Rukon District._

Still, the part of Byakuya's psyche that didn't necessarily mind all of the outrageous field trips Jiroh compelled him to make, rebelled at tamely accepting the life that he'd been handed. A small voice in the back of mind whispered that acknowledging one's duty was one thing, but denying the right to make his personal selection with regards to the woman he would spend the rest of his long days with would be a disaster-in-the-making. Maybe Jiroh and the way he acted around his crimson-haired dancer, besotted and craving her company, had rubbed off on him, which made no sense if he applied reason to the problem.

_I've only met the girl twice. I don't even know her name!_

Byakuya tried to tell himself that it didn't matter and contemplated getting up and going home, already labeling his mission a failure. Strangely, deep in the relative silence of the room, he heard a soft, chiming susurration, as though a thousand tiny voices all sang in perfect harmony. He felt a strange thrumming in his chest, resonating like an erhu's wire responding to the stroke of a bow. When he recognized the song he groaned aloud; it was the same one that she had played for him on that first night. Deep within him, he heard the voices of the unseen chorus serenade him in notes rather than words.

**_Follow Her_ **

He was certain that _someone_ had spoken to him, but also aware that there was no one else in the room. Byakuya looked around, listening for the choir, afraid he'd imagined it. Somehow, he knew that the voice had not come from without, but from _within_.

"Are you my...?" he whispered, almost not daring to question it aloud.

He was still in the Academy. He had not even attained full Reaper status and he had never handled a live blade. His instructors worried that premature exposure to a Zanpakuto could stunt a pupil's emotional growth and that the great power of the spirits that dwelled within the blade could crush the still developing spirits of their future wielders. The notion suddenly seemed ridiculous to Byakuya. He'd taken the words of his instructors at face value up until now and the voices, as well as the two-word command he heard, made his instructors' opinions seem like the terrified clucking of hens in a courtyard, frightened of their own shadows.

**_Follow Her_ **

All of his tutors and instructors had cautioned him that, during his first encounter with the spirit of his Zanpakuto, it was imperative that Byakuya assert himself as the master if their relationship was to develop properly. However, now that he was at the moment, he wasn't positive that domination was the way to go about this. Instead, curiosity got the better of him.

"Why should I?" he demanded of the voice, his pride very much stung by the fact that a woman so far beneath him in station should treat him in such a manner.

She'd had the temerity to scold him about his behavior, not once, but twice and had seen fit to walk out on him. Of course, he hadn't exactly spoken well to begin with and he could have chosen his words more carefully…

The blade, if that was indeed what it had been, was silent, to Byakuya's consternation.

_I think it must be my Zanpakuto spirit after all. It's just like me and it says what it needs to and doesn't waste time when the answer is obvious. My teachers all say that a warrior should listen to the voice within._

The silence in the room had become oppressive and Byakuya ran his fingers through his long dark hair, wanting to pull on the strands.

_I'm also certain this is **not** what they had in mind..._ _but far be it from me to ignore good advice._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The world opened up for him that summer. Prior to this, Byakuya Kuchiki's older family members had scrutinized his every thought, action and gesture in an attempt to weed out imperfections, as well as to ensure he achieved the ridiculously high behavioral benchmarks they'd set for him with regard to the 'noble virtues'. One of those measurable qualities had been 'perseverance'. Ironically, the young noble found that his struggles with that learned tenacity, courtesy of the Elders, came in handy in the dogged pursuit of a girl who had initially brushed him off as just another arrogant client.

The real challenge had been overcoming her initial dislike of his person, a task made more awkward after those first two, less-than-spectacular visits to the bathhouse. Jiroh, having far more experience with angry women than his younger counterpart, suggested both flowers and a sincere apology for his thoughtless remarks, preferably delivered while on his knees with his head bowed for greater effect. It simply wasn't in Byakuya's nature to bow his head, but he did manage the other two and on the fourth visit to the bathhouse, he'd seen her icy mask crack in the face of his sincerity.

Byakuya knew he was in trouble the moment that Hisana had glanced over at him from the corner of one eye and at last smiled at his efforts to talk to her without sounding like a ninny. He also found that many of his cherished upper-class prejudices and beliefs, drilled into him by years of tutors whose aim was to turn out an impeccably-bred aristocrat, promptly evaporated, whisked away like a shower of petals in a strong breeze. Each belief and value he held about his duties, his rank, and his place in the great grand scheme of things was suddenly up for review, and he allowed himself to question everything. Would he be a warrior out of duty or would he fight because doing so would protect souls like Hisana from becoming an appetizer for a Hollow? Would he uphold the laws because doing so was right or because everyone expected him to obey them unthinkingly? Would he simply accept the path that others had laid out for him or would he attempt to forge something different, as Jiroh seemed hell-bent on doing?

The still, calm center of this sudden existential crisis was a tiny young woman living in one of the worst places in all of the Rukongai. Gentle and fragile, she moved through her days with such caution, carefully weighing each choice she made to ensure her actions weren't impulsive and that the effects of her decisions would not bring harm to another. Her every word and action resonated with kindness. Byakuya learned humility and honor from her by watching the girl and seeing how she dealt with others. Those lessons turned out to be far more valuable than the dry lectures on philosophy to which his tutors subjected him.

Despite his ardent and increasing affection, Hisana would not open up to him, and she remained close-lipped about the time she did not spend in his company after he'd earned his way back into her good graces. Her mysteries remained her own and whatever it was that held her in such a rough, dangerous place, she kept it to herself, refusing to share her burden with him.

That vexed him, because by the end of the first week, Byakuya knew he was hopelessly in love with her. It was as if an invisible string tied their two hearts together. He swore he could actually sense the connection that thrummed between them. Hisana might play innocent and pretend not to notice, but he knew deep down that she could feel as well.

Senbonzakura agreed with him. The first time he had admitted his feelings to himself, he learned his Zanpakuto's name. The masked warrior he knew to be his soul's reflection warned him, when he'd expressed his surprise at learning to call upon his mirror self so quickly, that love was one of the hardest things for their collective soul to accept. It meant being vulnerable to pain and loss. There was no doubt in his mind or heart that, even if the universe opposed their union, Byakuya Kuchiki would have Hisana by his side as his lawful wife and no other. Convincing the prospective lawful wife to let him make her one was another thing entirely and had been more of a obstacle than he'd expected it to be.

"Byakuya-sama is feeling better now, I hope."

Hisana said this as she leaned over the edge of the crystalline pool created by the secluded mountain spring to which he'd brought her. She trailed her fingers through the icy water, leaving small patterns that disappeared behind her the movements of her hand. Seated in the shade of a tree and protected from the heat of the day, the girl smiled up at him as he poured her a cup of tea and handed it to her.

He had convinced Hisana to accompany him for a short time and to forego whatever secretive things she would normally do while not in his presence. He'd wanted to spend the afternoon with her and had promised to take her to the next town over by flash-step if she would stay with him until twilight. Byakuya had brought a well-stocked basket of carefully-packed food to share with her. He ignored the fact he'd stepped on the toes of the family chef to put it together himself. Hisana's spiritual pressure, not high enough to be useful, did make her hungry and she suffered fainting spells if she did not get enough nourishment.

"I was never ill, Hisana," he replied, adding more food onto her plate and handing it over to her. She would not let him feed her by hand either, insisting she was quite capable of feeding herself.

"Surely you must have been ailing, and frequently," she argued and paused to take several bites of fruit. "You have asked me several times to marry you. I hope your brain fever has passed and that you have come to your senses."

"I never took leave of them, except in the common way that all men of good heart do," he said. "I still love you, and I still desire our hands to be joined in matrimony."

"So… you're still not feeling like 'you' then," Hisana said a bit pityingly.

"I am more myself now than I have ever been. Were this not so, my sword would still be silent to me. I hear her in my dreams, and when I care to look within and listen, her voice is there to guide me, just as I feel our bond between us whenever we are together. Your protestations avail you little in this matter. You cannot change what is true by wishing it otherwise."

"I could turn your words back at you Byakuya-sama," Hisana countered, setting aside her plate in favor of trying to get him to see reason. "Your desire to take a woman from the farthest reaches of Rukongai as your wife and the future mistress of the Kuchiki Clan is absurd. A fish might love a bird, but where will they live?"

"If I must listen to that ridiculous old proverb one more time I swear I will find a way to crossbreed a trout and a sparrow and find out! As it stands, we are not a separate species. You are a woman, and I am a man, and we may be wed if we so choose."

"Except that you are a noble and I am…"

"The woman I love," he said shortly, already growing weary of their disagreement.

He was at least gratified to see color rise into her cheeks at how resolutely he said this. Hisana had grown a little too pale of late, but when he'd asked about her health, she had stubbornly refused to let him take her to see a real doctor. Instead, she'd insisted that the vile herbal concoctions of some half-literate shaman out in the sticks were good enough for her. Byakuya worried that the swill that witch doctor crafted for her might be less than worthless, or worse, was doing more harm to her than good. He also couldn't ignore the possibility that something in the air here was bad for her, since the dizzy spells that she was prone to were getting longer in duration.

"The Elders of my Clan excel in matters of politics and history and a great many other things, but they cannot tell me what only my heart can know. Senbonzakura knows it too. This is the truth that exists at the core of me and it is not something that I will allow to be set aside for political convenience. If you insist on doing so then I shall have to follow the Rukongai custom I have heard so much about and resort to stealing you."

"I have no war-lord protector," Hisana corrected him. "Wife-stealing only applies within that structure."

"Regardless, I wish you to come home with me."

"Byakuya-sama," she began, looking at him with her bottomless, indigo eyes and at that moment, decided he'd had enough of her protests. He could see the yearning in them that belied her words and he knew she felt the same way for him that he did for her.

Tired of talking the matter to death, he opted to show her instead. He leaned in and closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with his in a gentle kiss. The sweet taste of her reiatsu pulled him in, matching her essence with his. Every part of him resonated with hers, perfectly in synch, as balanced as yin and yang. She was the only thing in the universe that could fit and fill the empty places inside of him.

"Byakuya-sama," she whispered as her spirit pushed up without her even realizing it. It caught and held him there. He willingly obeyed her silent request and kissed her again, this time more passionately. At the same time, he pressed her down onto the blanket he'd rolled out. His reiatsu seeped out of him without his conscious direction. It would have choked anyone else. However, it surrounded Hisana like a cocoon, softly riffling her clothing and her hair. He could feel her intimately, her essence… and her need. She was hollow in the places where he belonged.

"Please, I..." Hisana said, her tiny hands curling into fists at the open front of the white shitage tucked into the blue hakama that the Academy assigned to all if its male students. She returned his kiss with a surprising amount of fierceness, abandoning any and all protests. Her spirit yielded and gave itself over to the feeling between them, accepting his embrace.

It was not quite an entreaty, but it was as close as he would hear to surrender. Byakuya didn't know what was holding her back or why she was so desperate to remain in the Seventy-Eighth District, and at that moment, he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that Hisana was there and that they needed each other.

Her fingers, still chilled from the spring water, slid beneath his shirt and traced lines of fire over the developing muscles he'd gained in the last year by training on a daily basis at the Academy. The traces of his reiatsu left behind as he kissed down her neck and collarbone stood out on her pale skin. Wherever they touched, star-like points of light bled between them as their reiatsu combined, mingling in the same manner as their bodies and their breaths.

It was heat, and light and love in so pure a form that it was almost painful, like trying to hold one's hand too close to a flame. He first bared her shoulders, then the soft curve of her breasts, exploring, tasting, touching, experiencing. A Kuchiki, as his tutors and his Elders had told him, belonged first and foremost to the Clan and that a Kuchiki's duty to the Clan came before anything else. He was Kuchiki, but he was also, as her hands both made and unmade him, utterly hers. She laid spread out beneath him, protected from the ground by both the blanket and their shed clothing. A gust of wind sweeping down from the mountain above whispered in the branches above them, sweeping around their bare bodies as he gave himself to her utterly.

"Hisana," he purred into her skin, as they lay dazed and dazzled by what had happened between them. Byakuya pressed small kisses anywhere he could reach, reveling in the feeling of his reiatsu permeating every part of her. Their mingled energies, like two rivers joined to become a greater torrent, were honey-sweet and he greedily drank from the result of their union lest he forget the taste.

"Byakuya-sama," she gasped, threading her pale, string-calloused fingers through his dark, unbound hair. The love and acknowledgement he'd always longed to see at last shone in her eyes. There was not nearly enough of it there to satisfy him, but he had gained this much. The rest would surely come with time.

"You feel as I do. If you deny it, I know you lie," he informed her and tried to keep his next statement from sounding as if he was pleading. "Stay with me. Be with me forever. This place isn't where you belong. You belong with me as I belong with you."

He prayed inwardly that at last she would finally agree to become his wife, or at least give up on stubbornly insisting that she had to stay in the slum that was Hangdog. He wanted to take her away from a place he considered beneath them both and ensconce her within his family's manor, where he could personally see to her welfare, her health and give her the kind of life he felt she deserved.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she turned her head, trying to move away from him. Frustrated with her stubbornness, Byakuya refused to let her do so and kissed her deeply. He was tired of her gentle evasions. He loved her and he knew she loved him. There was nothing more important than this.

"Come home, Hisana," Byakuya commanded, lacing their fingers together.

"How can I?" she sobbed. "How can I possibly have a home with you while...while…"

"While what?"

He was left wondering if she would at last confide in him the matter that seemed to weigh so heavily upon her that it was like a silent presence in the room, eating away at her ability to enjoy her time with him.

"It is not your concern Byakuya-sama. It is my burden alone to carry," she demurred once more, as she always did.

It was maddening find her trying to put distance between them, especially now when he thought that he'd finally gotten through to her.

"Tell me," he pleaded with her. "Open yourself to me, Hisana. I will share in it, whatever it is."

"I... I cannot Byakuya-sama. I cannot bear to speak of it with you! Please I would never taint you with the shame I know. You must not ask it of me. I... I love you too dearly and deeply for that."

His heart seemed to float up on a great white wind when he heard her confession. Prior to this, she'd never even hinted at returning his feelings for her, and usually changed the subject when he tried to cajole some kind of recognition of their relationship. Nevertheless, she had at last spoken the words to him! She'd acknowledged the truth that lay plainly between them and he knew that in that moment she had finally conceded the point and would no longer continue her useless denials about being in love with him.  
  
It was a small victory and Byakuya Kuchiki knew better than to press his luck by asking for too much, too soon. He would gladly take it for now, in the hopes of obtaining an even greater win later on, provided he had the patience to endure the wait.

The sun began to sink behind the mountain, the air grew cooler and that seemed to be the signal for the end to their tryst. The young noble reluctantly dressed and Hisana collected her things. They did however share a few smiles and kisses along the way. He was not yet where he wanted to be, but he was making progress. He joined their hands again, kissing her knuckles, then swept her into his arms and off to the next town as he had promised. He purchased her a room and a grant of safe-passage from the local bathhouse madam. It was a testament to their new level of understanding that she allowed him to do that for her and did not protest his right to arrange matters to ensure her safety while he was away. She still refused to go away with him, but she would let him arrange as much protection for her as he could while she continued with whatever quest drove her.

"I must return," he murmured against her skin. He had stayed long past midnight in the rooms he had acquired for her in the bathhouse. "Promise me that you will take care, Hisana."

"I will do my best, milord," she said reaching up and kissing him.

Byakuya positively preened under what was for her, a lavish outpouring of praise and affection. She so very rarely called him 'her lord', even as a matter of function. Moreover, she had never initiated a gesture of affection. He had always been the pursuer and she the pursued and he found he rather liked the change. As Byakuya flash-stepped across the outer Districts, he began mentally planning a variety of strategies he could use to gain another victory the next time he saw her.

* * *

The long, hot, lazy summer crawled by and gradually faded into an overly-warm autumn. Only the shortened days and the turning of the maple leaves, from a dusty green to a brilliant crimson, betrayed the passage of the year. Byakuya hardly noticed, as he found himself occupied by three things: his studies, his family duties and sneaking out to meet with Hisana at every possible opportunity. The break in the heat happened just as his second-year classes at the Academy got underway. With almost all of his free time spoken for, he had all but forgotten the one who had enabled him to meet the love of his life. Said enabler had not forgotten about him, however.

"Wake-up, Little Whirlwind," a deep toned voice commanded him as a large hand shook him awake.

His first attempt to remove the hand from his sleeping yukata only served to earn him a harder shaking.

"Wha-?" he mumbled, barely aware of his surroundings.

The clothes thrown at his head hadn't helped matters and he'd had to claw the fabric away from his face to determine the nature of his whereabouts and his assailant. When he figured it out, he had to stifle a groan. He was currently sleeping in his room in the Academy and his 'mentor' loomed over him, brows drawn and a serious expression plastered on his face. There should have been no way for a man with as little control over his reiatsu as Jiroh Gendai to sneak onto the grounds...

…unless his "sneaking" had been just a polite fiction on behalf of the instructors as a way for them to excuse themselves from interfering in matters between the Heads of Noble Houses. Kuchiki surmised later that the dormitory staff had not only looked the other way, but had also found more pressing matters to see to… such as examining their fingernails and inspecting the walls for cracks.

Even his roommate, the ratfink, had assiduously pretended to be asleep.

"Put that on and come with me."

What Jiroh Gendai had thrown at him was a loosely-tied bundle of cloth, one that jingled as Byakuya held it up to take a closer look at it. The jingle turned out to be two kenseikan and the metal-strung cord that held the formal haori closed. Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't the Head of Clan Kuchiki just yet, but the official Heir also had 'official' regalia and Jiroh had brought his to him.

The question, Byakuya groggily wondered as he crawled from his nice, warm bed, was 'why?' He also wanted to know how Jiroh had obtained the garments and ornaments in the first place. To the best of his knowledge, the ceremonial kimono and haori ought to be carefully stored away in a locked trunk at his Clan's Estate.

"There are no formal events scheduled," he protested even as he did what the elder Clan Head instructed. Unlike the Demon-Cat, Jiroh Gendai, while he might play fast and loose with custom, would never do anything illegal… other than breaking and entering and pilfering other people's clothing.

That meant something big was afoot and whatever it was, Jiroh wanted him along for the ride. He didn't appear to be in the mood for a refusal either. Byakuya got the feeling that this excursion wasn't going to be like all of the others. Jiroh had a sense of purpose about him that practically made the big man glow in the gloom of the cramped Academy dorm room. The younger noble realized that it didn't matter if he willingly put the uniform on or not; he would be going along and if he wanted to do so clothed or naked, he'd best make his decision quickly.

Byakuya chose 'clothed' and scrambled into his rarely-worn outfit as quickly as he could.

"Follow me," Jiroh ordered and out of long habit, Byakuya fell in with him.

The two nobles slipped silently out into the night. The elder lead the younger away from the Academy grounds, past the gates of the Seireitei, into the slightly dusty streets of the First District in the Southern Province. They continued at a hurried pace, both of them wearing long cloaks to cover up their finery, though Kuchiki wondered why they bothered since even the regular souls of Rukongai would probably be able to sense something unusual about them. Jiroh led him several Districts out, not as far out as Hisana lived, but not close either. He was beginning to think that Jiroh had dragged him on some wild goose chase this time when the figure in front of him came to an abrupt halt and stepped aside, letting the youthful noble behind him take in their destination.

"What in the world?"

He found himself in one of the most bizarre destinations to date. At first glance, it was an ordinary, innocuous-looking clearing in the woods. The grassy glade bordered the great roaring river that ran all the way to the end of the Southern Districts, even Hangdog, and from there, out into the hinterlands. Two massive pillars shaped like giant cacti stood at one end, each decorated with a very surprised-looking face. A banner strung between them advertised fireworks. They passed between the odd, makeshift gate and walked around the small, tile-roofed house via a side yard to the back of the place, which turned out to be a nicely-planted garden. Someone had festooned the area with lanterns and other decorations, as though for a party. The fact there seemed to be festivities in the offing provided Byakuya with a rudimentary explanation as to 'why' they were there, but he had no clue as to the reason for them.

A group of people Byakuya had never met before gathered nearby, either seated upon cushions or standing. He couldn't tell whether they were nobles pretending to be Rukongai toughs, or toughs pretending to be nobles. The clothes were different in cut from what he was accustomed to, more southern and exotic in flavor, with head wraps and scarves. Their clothing wasn't the only unusual thing about them either. The green-eyed woman seemed to be missing an arm as well as enough clothing to render her ensemble a little less than respectable. There was a stocky boy with an unfortunate face seated next to her, holding a pig with blue bow tied around its neck. The child scratched it affectionately between the ears and on the chin, periodically whispering things to it. A young man and woman dressed in the uniforms of Soul Reapers stood next to the one-armed woman and the man cracked a joke that earned him a cuff to the back of the head with the woman's remaining arm. The other woman gave his arm a squeeze and left her hand there, a proprietary gesture that told Byakuya they were at least an 'item'. A taller, dark-haired man who had the look of someone rousted out of bed, if his unshaven face, rumpled finery and tired eyes were any indication, had picked a spot next to a supply of sake bottles, sneaking a drink every now and then from a red-and-gold decorated cup and yawning. Jiroh cleared his throat and the man immediately clasped his hands behind his back, failing miserably in his attempt to look innocent.

Off to one side, he noticed a gong, guarded by two very large, mustachioed men in what looked like matching outfits, as well as a plethora of cushions and a low table with an odd assortment of things on it. Byakuya thought he saw a pile of folded blankets, a set of goblets and a pitcher, a few dishes that held salt and what looked like manju and a coil of scarlet ribbon.

"You probably haven't met them," Jiroh said with little preamble as he strode up to the motley bunch, towing Byakuya in his wake. "But this here is Clan Shiba. That's the Head of the Clan, Kukaku Shiba. The Soul Reapers are Kaien Shiba and his wife Miyako. He's with the Thirteenth and the middle of the litter." Hooking a thumb at the man trying to put the cup down somewhere inconspicuous, he went on. "That scruffy guy's her uncle, Isshin Shiba. He's with the Tenth Division."

Jiroh ignored the 'Hey! Who's scruffy-looking?' protest that came from the eldest Shiba, as well as the laughter that followed from Kukaku and Miyako, and finished the introductions.

"The boy's the youngest, little Ganju Shiba," he said and finally took in the extra guest tucked under the boy's arm. "Your guess is as good as mine about the pig though. Hey!"

Jiroh gave him a nudge forward and Byakuya abruptly found himself the center of attention as the rest of the party sized him up.

"This here is Byakuya Kuchiki, Heir to the Kuchiki Clan. I guess that'll about do it for witnesses."

"Witnesses?" Byakuya, echoed in bewilderment.

"Yep, boy! I'm gettin' hitched tonight! My woman's carrying my future son, so I want everything to be on the up and up when he gets here."

That was when Byakuya's eyes finally registered the last person at the gathering. Settled on a cushion in the middle of the garden was the woman he now recognized as Jiroh's precious 'Ruby'. Her dancer's body had filled out and she was, as the proud father-to-be noted, very heavy with child. He did a few mental calculations, factoring in how much time had passed since he'd last seen her in mid-spring and surmised that, from her advanced condition, she must have been already expecting when Jiroh had first dragged him to the Rukongai bathhouse. She glowed with health, love and the life within her and abruptly Byakuya's mind left off wondering if she had less than a month left before she delivered and flashed to what Hisana might look like someday, her belly round with his heir. The image created a happy little flutter in his stomach.

Unfortunately, as he seemed to be the only person at this impromptu affair with any regard for noble protocol, Byakuya felt that it was his duty to at least bring up a few of the issues that might become problematic down the road.

"Isn't the wedding of a Clan Head supposed to be a little more elaborate than this?"

He didn't think it was an unreasonable question. In fact, he was certain that this wasn't how a wedding among nobles was supposed to happen. His own Clan's Elders had drilled the proper etiquette for such an event into his head, and it involved more than just showing up in the middle of the night in a nice suit.

The dark look that crossed the older man's face made Byakuya want to flinch and it was with great effort that he kept his features schooled, even if the answer shocked him.

"My kin are being ridiculous about it," Jiroh said, irritation evident in his voice. "Half the Clan's throwing a tantrum about me marrying Akane so I'm just going marry her and they can suck it if they don't like it!"

Byakuya frowned at the admission, though the impulsiveness behind the statement wasn't all that much of a surprise. It wasn't as if this was out of character for Jiroh either. When he'd made up his mind about something, it stayed made. There were mountains less stalwart than Jiroh Gendai was when it came to sticking with a decision.

However, Byakuya's grandfather, an astute politician, had been very uneasy lately about the current state of Clan Gendai. Byakuya had had other things on his mind, but the elderly Head of Clan Kuchiki had confided in his grandson that the stability of Jiroh's Clan might be in jeopardy. There were rumors of an internal rift within the family and their varied supporters, whispers of discontent and dissatisfaction with the way Jiroh was running things. Byakuya had known what his grandfather had really been asking of him when he'd brought up his concerns about the Gendai on one of his visits home. The younger Kuchiki had summarily made two attempts to ask Jiroh about his Clan, but the older man's thoughts had been clearly elsewhere and he'd brushed off Byakuya's questions with a 'Don't worry, boy… it isn't important'.

At least now, Byakuya knew what had preoccupied his friend. He supposed he too would have been both distracted and elated with the news of the impending birth of his firstborn child, to the exclusion of all else. Even so, the younger noble sighed and tried again.

"If you marry her out here, even with the other Clan Heads as witnesses, if you don't legitimize it in the Seireitei, the rest of the Clan won't acknowledge the union," Byakuya felt obliged to inform him. "They'll just pretend she's your mistress."

"I'll settle this with them in due time."

Jiroh had a feral look about him that Byakuya knew, from both experience and the observation of many past tavern fights, normally boded ill for whoever inspired it. His friend seemed as if he actually wanted to bust the heads of anyone stupid enough to argue with him over his chosen bride. "I looked it up… this is a legitimate marriage, with at least one other Clan Head and two witnesses with noble bloodlines. They can't deny it, or us."

"Well, that explains why I'm here and why we're holding this on Shiba grounds," Byakuya concluded and gave up on getting Jiroh to listen. He shrugged instead, figuring Jiroh was being hopelessly naive about handling things in this manner. He would be the one to deal with Clan Gendai, not Byakuya, so the young noble threw up his proverbial hands and decided to let Jiroh get married as he saw fit.

The two matching, meaty retainers, standing like bookends on either side of the gong bowed deeply when Kukaku walked over and tugged one down to her level by an ear. After she'd whispered into it, he straightened and reached for a nearby mallet. He struck it with a great deal of enthusiasm, to the detriment of Byakuya's eardrums. The sound was a summons and a warning that the ceremony was about to begin. Byakuya and the rest of Shiba Clan took their seats in a line behind the circle drawn into the earth. Kukaku Shiba sprinkled the ring with water and salt, consecrating the ground, then rang a bell to catch the attention of any wandering spirits. The three witnesses, Byakuya, Kaien and Isshin, clapped in unison three times and bowed their heads. Then Kukaku fished one of the manju from the basket on the low table. From where he was sitting, Byakuya thought he could smell the sweet red bean filling as she held it up before Jiroh and Akane.

"This manju represents the good and fulfilling things that you will share between you in your lives together. Will each of you swear that you shall share the bread of your lives? Will you share the love, companionship, loyalty and devotion equally with the other without stinting?" Kukaku demanded of the bride and groom as she broke the stuffed bun in half and handed them each a piece.

"We do so swear," the two of them chorused firmly. Then they linked their arms together and each ate their portion.

Next Kukaku poured water into a goblet and handed it to the couple, who held it by the stem with the fingers of their right hands.

"Water is necessary for life to exist. In the same way, love, honesty and respect are necessary for a marriage to exist. This water represents the life you will make together from your separate selves, in the same way that a river joins the sea. No longer will your lives be separate entities. Your tears of pain and of joy will mix. Do you swear that whatever the waters of your future lives will bring, you will face the tides as one?"

"We do so swear," the happy couple declared. Jiroh had his hand over the swollen belly of his soon-to-be-wife and they shared a special smile as they drank from the cup.

Kukaku handed the blankets over to the two of them and they each spread one over the shoulders of their partner, then linked their left hands, palm to palm with their fingers interlaced.

"The blankets represent warmth, security and shelter. Do you promise to share the same roof, the same walls, the same possessions and your wealth throughout your lives together?"

"We do so swear," they avowed.

"Then," Kukaku said, pulling a pinch of ceremonial salt out of a paper twist, she placed a small bit on each of their tongues and threw the rest into the air. "Consecrated by salt, your vows are made before the world and skies."

Fetching the ribbon from the table, the Head of the Shiba Clan wrapped it around their forearms. The bright red length eventually bound their wrists, hands and their left pinky fingers together with the ends.

"Your lives are bound now and forever and what is bound here shall only be broken in death," the green-eyed woman intoned, though the somber words the merriment glittering in her eyes leavened the somber sentiment as the salt crystals fell back to earth.

******

Byakuya Kuchiki briefly brought his attention back to the present, mostly to ascertain he hadn't missed anything important. To both his relief and consternation, he found that the same long-winded twit who had taken the floor an hour ago was still at it, belaboring a point about noble obligation towards those who lived in the Rukon District. He must have made some involuntary movement, because Rukia chose that moment to look up at him with concern.

Feeling heartened that his younger sister had enough presence of mind to keep up with a speech better left on the nearest rubbish heap, Byakuya he gave her a silent nod of his head to let her know he was fine. Mollified, she turned back to the proceedings, keeping her posture straight, though her eyes kept wandering over the rest of the attendees. This was probably the first time that she'd seen many of them. He saw her gaze dart to the northern section of the chamber and he couldn't help but think of the faces he knew were missing from Clan Gendai's ranks.

'Bound, now and forever' he remembered sadly and wished that the second half of Kukaku's declaration that night hadn't come so quickly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this rotting on my hard-drive since probably chapter 395, it was the next major stort I started after I got most of the way through Chasing Shadows. It's actually two stories, or rather two distinctive ideas I had been toying with at the time and neither of them was working alone so I tried putting them together and they worked! Unfortunately it was one of those things... I was never quite satisfied with it so it never got posted. I thought I'd try it here to see if there was any interest. Let me know what you think.


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